Shadowlands
by Kirsty Welsh
Summary: What harm can a cure for the common cold be? And aren't clinics supposed to be for making people well?  COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

**Shadowlands.**

**Disclaimer - Don't own 'em, don't make money from 'em but damn, I love to play with 'em.**

**Chapter 1**

'You have the right to remain silent and refuse to answer questions. Do you understand?' The older cop leaned in and looked the young blond man in the eyes. Crystal blues stared back at him.

'Yeah.'

The cop – his name badge read Pattinson – continued, speaking clearly as though he was talking to a five year old. 'Anything you do say may be used against you in a court of law. Do you understand?'

Again the young blond man nodded. 'Yeah.'

'You have the right to consult an attorney before speaking to the police and to have an attorney present during questioning now or in the future. Do you understand?'

'Why ask? I didn't do nothin' so I don't need an attorney.'

'Are you saying you want an attorney or not?'

The blond sighed. 'No, I don't want an attorney.'

The cop sighed too. 'Just answer the questions huh? We're gonna be here long enough as it is. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you before any questioning if you wish. Do you understand?'

There was a nod and the cop slammed his hand down on the table top. 'A nod don't show up on the tape. Answer yes or no. Do you understand?'

'I understand' the young man's voice sounded tired and uneasy.

'If you decide to answer questions now without an attorney present you will still have the right to stop answering at any time until you talk to an attorney. Do you understand?'

'Sure.'

'Knowing and understanding your rights as I have explained them to you, are you willing to answer my questions without an attorney present?'

'I just said so.'

The cop shook his head. 'Yes or no, for the record.'

'Yes.'

'Ok. State your name for the tape.'

The young blond cleared his throat. 'Hutchinson. Ken Hutchinson.'

'Can I call you Ken?' Pattinson perched himself on the corner of the table and took a packet of cigarettes from his pocket. He tapped one out and offered one to Ken. The blond shook his head and watched as the cop disappeared behind a cloud of acrid blue smoke.

'Call me whatever y..you like.'

'So just for the record Ken, tell me why you think you're here.'

Ken Hutchinson took a deep steadying breath. 'You think I murdered Daniel De La Vigo.'

'We found his body in an ally way. He was dead. We found a wad of money on him with a note from the clinic where you work. Care to explain that?'

For the first time Ken twitched. 'Did anyone t t touch him?'

'Do we look like rookies? No, we didn't touch him and by the time the coroner had been over him, his body was put into quarantine. "Highly contagious" is what he put on the death certificate, along with a whole bunch of medical mumbo jumbo. Care to explain that?'

'I can't.'

'Can't, or won't? You're lookin' at 20 to life for the cold blooded murder of De La Vigo. As my friends in Chicago would say, sing, an' I may be able to whittle that down for ya.'

Ken Hutchinson wriggled uncomfortably in his seat as his mind took him back two weeks to the laboratory at First Minnesota Medical and his partner Ryan Shaw.

_Shaw looked up from his microscope as Hutchinson came into the room. The darker haired man pinched the bridge of his nose with the finger and thumb of his left hand and yawned loudly._

'_What've you got?' Ken asked._

'_Only fame and fortune buddy. Fame and fortune.'_

'_You mean you isolated it?'_

'_Your idea of exposing it to liquid nitrogen and then dissecting was perfect. Worked like a charm. See for yourself.' Shaw moved away so that Ken could look down the barrel of the microscope at the tiny wriggling entity caught in the crosshairs. It seemed so benign, almost cute like a woolly teddy bear in appearance, and yet... Ken looked up. 'We did it' he said tiredly._

'_That we did pal, that we did. Like I said fame and fortune.'_

_Ken snickered. It had taken the pair of medical students 12 months of hard graft to get to this point in their search for a cure for the common cold and now they had isolated the one common thread to each and every variety of choriza virus. This was it – the epitome of their research and the key to more money than they could dream of._

'_So what now?'_

'_We test it' Ryan said._

'_We tested it already. On rats. As I recall two out of three of the suckers died before we had time to "cure" them.'_

'_Rats are rats buddy. Their body chemistry is so different from ours...'_

'_So what? A pig?'_

_Ryan's face lit up with an almost religious zeal. 'Think bigger.'_

_Ken frowned. 'We don't have enough money for a chimp, and even if we did, I don't like the idea of cutting' the thing up afterwards. I'm supposed to be a doctor, not a butcher.'_

'_No pig, no chimp. We isolated the virus Ken. We don't need to pussy foot around with the small fry. With this breakthrough, all we need is a willing volunteer.'_

_Ken's face clouded. 'No, no, no and did I mention no?'_

'_Why not? We have the stuff here. We can whistle up a batch of the toxin, infect the subject, wait twenty four hours and then harvest the serum.'_

_Again the blond shook his head. 'There are a thousand reasons Ryan and the top of the list is it isn't exactly ethical. The medical board would never buy it...'_

'_The medical board don't even have to know about it.'_

'_No, but I do and I say no. Give it a few more weeks. By then we'll have done more tests and gotten more familiar with the little sucker. By them we'll know its genome from one end to the other and we can manipulate the DNA and create a serum that way.'_

_Ryan shook his head. 'I don't understand you Ken. Why wait? We infect a subject, care for him in the lab, take his blood and with a little polygenic splicing we have the perfect serum. No waiting, no trial and error. The government will love us because there'll be no more weeks off work with a cold and think of how we sell his to Beechams, Reckitt and Bowser...'_

_The blond man cocked his head on one side. 'It's taken the best medical minds in the world to study the common cold Ryan. We make one breakthrough and suddenly you think you're God? We've taken this is far as we can and now we turn the research over to the big guns and let 'em work on through.'_

'_What? And let them take all the credit?'_

'_We have our notes, our papers. We'll get credit.'_

'_Yeah, and what about reapin' the benefits huh?'_

_Ken sighed. 'Sure the money would be good, but if we get the lawyers on board, we'll get a fair cut of the proceeds.'_

'_I don't want a fair cut. Don't you see Ken, we have the world at our fingertips and you're just gonna turn it all away because you're too yellow to take the final step.'_

_Ken stood up so suddenly that the chair he'd been sitting on overturned. He glared at Ryan, his face pale and his lips a white line across his face. 'As I recall, the last rat we tried this so called cure on went crazy, turned on all his buddy rats and killed 'em one by one. As I recall we finally euthanized the poor critter because we couldn't stand seein' it in so much pain. Do ya really wanna do that to a fellow human bein'? Do ya? Coz let me tell you, I came into the world of medicine coz I wanted to save lives, not because I wanted to torture someone or something.'_

_Ryan held up his hands in defeat. 'Ok, ok, you made your point. I had to ask. I had to see what you'd say, but I guess you're right. No one ever made a fortune from medicine and I guess they'd never believe a pair of med students anyhow. Fine, we take it slow, just like you said.'_

_Ken looked at Ryan with a sense of disbelief. It was Ryan's drive that had got them so far; Ken's brains, but Ryan's drive and to hear the other man give in so easily didn't sit well with the blond._

'_You're gonna give up the argument just like that?'_

_Ryan shrugged. 'The voice of reason. You're right, we should take this slow. I bow to your better judgement and now I better bow out. Proff Petersen awaits and I can't be late for another one of his riveting microbiology lectures. See ya later Blondie.'_

Ken looked up at Pattinson and said, with all honesty. 'I have no idea about the body. I don't know the poor guy, I've never met him and there's no way on God's green earth that I'd want to kill him.'

'But you know someone who might?'

'No. I don't know anyone who'd want to kill him.' It was the truth. Ken's gut feeling that Ryan had cooked up some of the toxin and given it to De La Vigo may have been right, but even Shaw wouldn't have wanted to kill he guy. Far from it. Ken suspected that his medical partner had simply been skipping a few hundred steps in his attempt to make his name.

Pattinson stared long and hard at the young blond in front of him. He'd been around enough to have seen thousands of suspects sit at that very table. He'd watched most of them sweat, fidget, twiddle with their clothes or pick imaginary skin from their fingers. Some bit their nails, some asked for another cigarette. Most, at some point during his questioning would call a halt to proceedings and ask for an attorney. They were all signs of guilt and Pattinson could list them all. This young "boy next door" blond however, displayed none of the signs. Ken Hutchinson was nervous, of course. Who wouldn't be with a murder rap hanging over his head, and yet Ken sat calmly, answering questions clearly, almost dispassionately. Either he was an Oscar rated actor, or Pattinson really did have the wrong guy. He changed tack.

'Where's your friend? Ryan Shaw?'

'I don't know.'

'When was the last time you saw him?'

Ken cast his mind back. Ryan had made himself scarce after their talk in the lab. Ken had wanted to talk to him – to discuss how they were going to take the next step in their research. Sure, they'd isolated the virus, but the animals they'd infected had all died. Whilst they'd all displayed the symptoms of the common cold, sneezing and wheezing, they'd also shown some more aggressive traits. As Ken had reminded his buddy, the one rat that did survive had to be put out of its misery after turning violent and then experiencing such terrible pains that it quite literally went crazy. These were not the symptoms usually associated with a head cold and they needed eliminating before the experiments went further. But try as he might, Ken had been unable to find Ryan Shaw. His door was locked, he didn't attend for lectures or ward rounds and his phone went unanswered.

'I last saw him about two weeks ago' Ken said softly. His mind was already thinking about De La Vigo and the horrific death he must have suffered. They'd had to make the serum powerful enough to take and that meant that it was far more contagious than the usual virus. Thank God the coroner had got there in time.

'Don't give me that. You two were inseparable. If anyone knows where he is, it's gonna be you.'

Ken lifted troubled crystal blues to look Pattinson in the eye. 'I swear, I haven't seen him for two weeks. No-one has. We were working on somethin'... a project and we were gettin' close to the end. We had...a disagreement and I haven't seen him since. I swear.'

'And this "project". What exactly was that?'

Ken opened his mouth to speak, thought twice and then decided. 'I need to see my lawyer' he said quietly.

**3 months later.**

The bailiff held the book and Ken Hutchinson placed his right hand on it. 'Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help you God?'

Ken looked up into the public gallery. His Mom and Dad sat on the front row and as he looked, his Mom smiled encouragingly.

'I do.'

'State your name for the court record.'

'Kenneth Richard Hutchinson.' Ken sat back on the hard wooden seat and took a deep breath. The last three months had taken it out of the 23 year old. He'd been initially held in jail whilst investigations took place. Eventually Ryan Shaw was found, arrested and told the cops that he knew nothing of the death – that Ken Hutchinson had insisted on going ahead with the experiments. By then, Ken had been questioned and had answered consistently and eventually Shaw was charged with the murder, Ken was released and was now going to give evidence against his former partner.

Ryan Shaw sat next to his attorney, handcuffed to his chair. He glared at Ken but the blond was adamant. Shaw had tried to lay the blame at Ken's feet. An innocent man had died because of Ryan's impatience and now the blond man was about to set the record straight.

For almost a day Ken Hutchinson answered questions from his own lawyer, from Ryan Shaw's lawyer and from the Judge. At the end of it he was wrung out both physically and emotionally and as the bailiff told him he was free to go, he stood shakily and walked from the courtroom without a backwards look.

Ryan Shaw was sentenced to 9 years in prison for the "accidental" death of Daniel De La Vigo.

Ken Hutchinson quit medical school against his Father's wishes. He packed his bags soon after the end of the trial and enrolled in the Police Academy as far away from Minnesota as was possible to get.

Within 9 months of his incarceration, Cadet Ken "Hutch" Hutchinson was out on parade in Bay City California, his black uniform and new short haircut proclaiming to the world that his past was behind him and he was a new man.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2 – 10 years later.**

'Has anyone ever told you that you have an amazing body?' The raven haired beauty propped herself up on her elbow and played a finger down the dark brown fuzz of Dave Starsky's chest. The man opened the deepest indigo blue eyes and smiled lazily.

'You know all the buttons to push don't ya honey?' Starsky's voice was husky with the need for her. The night was young...ish and they'd made love once already after returning from the restaurant.

Hungry for each other's bodies, Tania had started to strip off Starsky's shirt the moment the front door was closed. They kissed, hard and hungrily as he had unzipped the back of her simple, understated black dress. Tania had stepped out of it and fallen to her knees, her hands already reaching for the zip of his jeans and the brunet had pulled her up, lifted her so that her legs had twined around his waist, and carried her into the bedroom, setting her down gently on the bed.

Kneeling in front of her, between her legs, he'd started to work at the garters holding up her black stockings. Playfully she batted his hand away.

'No hands. Do it with your teeth' she whispered.

Starsky grinned and set about the task, his lips and teeth working at the pretty pink satin of the garter belt, "accidentally" straying from the material to her deliciously perfumed skin so that he nuzzled at the dark triangle of hair low down beneath her belly. Tania squirmed and let out a long, shaky sigh.

'Don't be too long. I need you, right now.'

Starsky looked up as the garter belt parted. 'Your wish is my command' he muttered as he took his first taste of her. She shuddered above him and her hands grasped his head, fingers entwined in his chocolate curls as she pulled him up to meet her.

'I need all of you, every last inch. Make love to me Dave.'

The brunet sighed. 'I guess I could take one for the team, but will you respect me in the morning?'

Tania smiled. 'Show me what you got Sergeant and I'll let you know.'

Pausing mid kiss, Starsky had regarded her with solemn eyes. 'I never made love to another Sergeant before. Is there some regulation about this?'

Tania grinned and looked down the cop's long, lean body. 'Well it looks like he's standing up and saluting me, so we should be fine.'

Their love making had been short but intense. Both had needed the touch and both had allowed their bodies to respond quickly, knowing that the night was long and that they had all the time in the world. Now, an hour later Starsky was ready again and at Tania's touch he felt the familiar tightening low down in his belly and knew that this time, he would make it last. He'd take her to her limits and finally, when she was screaming and whimpering with the need for release, he'd allow her to tip over the edge and ride the long freewheel down hill.

Gently he pushed the woman down onto her back and started to kiss in a line from the angle of her jaw down, across the pulse racing in her neck, across the creamy skin to her breast where one dark pink bud stood upright, waiting for his attention. With great care, Starsky licked at the hard nub of flesh and allowed his teeth the graze the sensitive spot. Tania moaned and her fingernails drew a line down the brunet's spine, white tramlines showing how she'd pushed him towards her body, needing him like a junky needs the next fix.

With his left hand, Starsky ran his thumb over the nipple's partner as he continued to worry at the flesh until Tania was mewing beneath him and reaching hungrily for his centre. Gently he moved her hand.

'Not yet' he whispered. 'We have all night.'

As though to prove him wrong, the bedside telephone chose that moment to ring. Starsky paused.

'No. No don't stop. Ignore it' Tania moaned. 'More...I need more...please.'

Starsky tried to shut out the ringing. Damn the phone. Damn the fact that he was a cop and that for most cops an emergency meant he was always on call. Damn, damn, damn.

Somehow Tania's nipple didn't taste quite as sweet while the phone rang. Somehow it was difficult to concentrate on pleasuring the woman and ignoring the incessant ringing. Somehow, with his partner Hutch out on a shout tonight without him Starsky needed to answer the call.

'Shit!' he spat, rolled over and hooked the receiver from its cradle.

'This had better be good' Starsky snapped into the phone.

'I'm at the ER. Dobey wants you down here now.'

The sound of Hutch's voice made most thoughts of love making flee from Starsky's mind. Most, but not all. Even a ten year partnership with the blond cop couldn't make Starsky's body forget the delights of Tania just like that! Beside him, Tania covered herself with the deep blue sheet.

'Tell him you're off duty' she snapped.

Starsky ignored the woman. 'The ER? Are you hurt?'

There was a quiet snort down the phone. 'Nothin' I can't handle. Just a bump on the head and a couple've stitches.'

'Did they give you anythin'? I mean, they remembered their star patient needs antibiotics?' Starsky realised he was sounding like a mother hen, but Hutch had only recently recovered fully from a plague that had hit Bay City like a whirlwind. He'd been hours from death when Starsky had picked up the one guy whose blood had the antibody Hutch and a couple of thousand others desperately needed. It had been the worst time of Starsky's life and he'd lane awake at night since contemplating what life would have been like without his partner, best buddy, confident and brother all rolled into one. Just the thought that Hutch had been injured sent Starsky's pulse rate through the roof.

'I'll be right there' he said, already edging off the bed.

Tania lunged for the phone and grabbed it before Starsky could stop her. 'He isn't going anywhere. He's worked nine days straight and he needs a break. Deal with it. He's...'

Angrily Starsky took the phone back.

'Hey. I'll be there in 30.'

'Was that the delectable Tania?'

'Uh huh.'

'Did I interrupt somethin'? She sounded pissed.'

Starsky threw a glance at the woman whose face was set. 'Uh huh. See ya buddy.'

The brunet put down the phone. 'He's hurt.'

'Fine, so let the hospital deal with it.'

The brunet frowned, 'I though you doctors were supposed to heal the sick. Let's have a little compassion here, huh?'

Tania sat up in the bed. 'Compassion? What about me? What about us? Where's the great Hutch's passion huh? Can't he leave you alone? It's not like he owns you and yet he's constantly at you. All the time.'

Starsky got off the bed quickly. He didn't want the night to deteriorate into another argument. There had been too many angry words spoken between Starsky and Tania about the job in general and Hutch in particular. Tania was jealous, there was no other way to say it, and yet when they weren't arguing, she was the best thing the brunet had ever experienced since the death of his beloved Terri.

'I told ya. Dobey only took me off the roster tonight so long as there was no emergency. This job has taken almost five months to set up. He needs all his men down there right now.'

Tania snorted. 'Are you going because of Dobey, or because of the Blond Bimbo?'

The brunet turned. 'Don't do this honey. Not now.'

'No? Then when? Huh? We have three people in this relationship and from where I stand its too crowded. You make a choice Dave. It's either me or Hutch.'

'I'm not having this conversation. Not now. I have a job to do and you of all people should understand that, or don't police surgeons follow rosters?'

Tania glared. 'We have rosters, but we also know when to say uncle, ok? You can't keep working all the hours god sends. It's not healthy for you or me.'

Starsky's blood started to boil. He loved Tania, he was sure of that, but he also loved his job, and in a different way he loved Hutch. They'd been through so much together that it was difficult to describe their relationship. It was closer than a brother (at least closer than Starsky was to his own brother Nick) and almost as close as a lover, but his feelings towards Hutch were in no way sexual. There was just an overwhelming need to watch his partner's back and make sure the blond was ok. Was that enough to tear him away from Tania tonight? Yes, definitely. Was it enough to maybe end their relationship? That was something Starsky would need to think about very carefully, although he would much prefer to have both his partner and the beautiful Tania in his life.

Temper was Starsky's undoing. It always had been and he suspected it always would be. Right now, he could feel that familiar adrenaline flowing and he took a deep breath.

'So that's it, aint it? It's you, you and you. Did anyone tell you that you could be one selfish woman?'

'Only you, because you can't see past your need to be with Blondie every second of the day.'

'I work with the guy. What the fuck am I meant to do?'

'Ask for a new partner maybe.'

Starsky paused in the midst of pulling on his shirt. 'And why the hell would I do that?'

'Because if Hutch doesn't recede into the background of our relationship like a bad dream, we're through.'

Starsky snapped. Between the phone call and the interrupted love making, his nerves were frayed and he needed out. What he wouldn't give for a woman who understood him and his job! Like Terri.

_Shudup Starsk...she's de...she aint here any more._

'Don't do this. Not now. I have to go and you know it. We can talk later.'

Tania got up off the bed, the sheet wrapped around her. 'I'm askin' you not to. Don't you love me?' she wheedled.

'You know I do, but you also know I need to go. Dobey's called all the men in.'

'And like a little puppy you go running with your tail wagging?'

Knowing he would say something he later regretted, Starsky reached for the door handle. 'This is me going. We can talk later.'

'No Dave, we can't coz I won't be here. I'm telling you, don't go. Please?'

'And I'm tellin' you I have to.'

'I hate you!' Tania's voice rose. I hate you.'

'No, you don't, you're just angry.'

'I do. I hate you because you don't love me.'

'I love you, you know that. I tell you a hundred times a day.'

'You don't love me, you love Hutch and I hate you for it.' Starsky ducked as one stiletto heeled shoe came flying his way. It's partner caught him on the back as he opened the door to depart and as he closed the bedroom door he could hear Tania screaming at him to come back, that she needed him. The memory of the woman's lips on his and her body pressed against him lingered in Starsky's mind. He could almost feel her breath on his neck and yet now she was screaming that she hated him! Should he ignore Dobey and go back? Maybe. Could he ignore his partner being hurt? Never.

What did that say about his relationship with Tania? And would there ever be another woman who would accept Starsky's life for how it was – complicated. The brunet suspected not and it saddened him. Terri had been the only one who'd truly understood him and who accepted him and his job and his partner as one complete package. And the job had caused her death. Starsky should probably have packed in being a cop there and then but Hutch had been the one to make him see sense – that Terri's death would have been in vain if Starsky still allowed flakes like Prudholme to walk he streets.

No. Any woman who wanted to share Starsky's life would have to accept sharing him with the job and his partner and apparently Tania couldn't. It hurt Starsky deep down and he hoped that there would be a way they could come to an understanding because he knew he loved her. The signs, however, were not good.

Squaring his shoulders, Starsky snagged the keys from the table by the door and walked out of his apartment, down the steps and got into the sanctuary of his beloved Torino. As he started to drive away he could still hear Tania screaming.

Inside the apartment the woman flung herself down on the bed and pounded the pillow in anger. Things had been going so well. She and Starsky were getting on great and she knew that with a little more time, the brunet would have come around to her way of thinking. As it was she felt she'd blown it and for a moment she lay quietly, considering the options. Eventually she sat up, brushed her hair from her eyes and wandered naked into the living room. She picked up the phone and dialled a number she knew by heart, listening to the ring tone. The phone at the other end picked up.

'He's gone. He's gone and I don't think we're together any more' she said.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3 – 2 weeks later**

Three men stood in the small plain office of Captain Harold Dobey. Through the window the early afternoon sun shone, showing the dirt on the glass – evidence that the Metro did not waste money on trivia like window cleaners. Behind the desk the large black man sat mopping ineffectually at his face with a large white hanky. The temperature was threatening to bust the mercury clean out of the top of the thermometer and the fan on the desk did nothing to cool bodies or tempers. They had been talking for the past 15 minutes, although for the latter 3 of them, tempers had frayed and the discussion had turned into an argument.

Hutch stood up from the chair he shared with Starsky so suddenly that the brunet, perched on the arm, had to perform an inelegant windmill move with his arms to stay upright.

'I don't have to be right in the thick of things Capn, but I need to be there.'

Dobey wiped at his face again and slammed a ham-like hand onto the table. 'How many more times Hutchinson? The answer is no. We've been over this. Two weeks ago you almost had your brains splattered over West Maddison. They saw you. They know you're a cop.'

'That's an exaggeration and you know it. I got a tiny cut. Two stitches an' a bruise. Not exactly requiring brain surgery. And so what that they know I'm a cop? I said I'd stay in the background.'

'They hit you with the butt of an Uzi!'

'They had machine guns? You never said they had machine guns. Why didn't you mention the machine gun? That makes for a more impressive story with the chicks.' This from Starsky who so far had tried his best to remain quiet.

'Shudup Starsk. Yeah, they had a couple, but they didn't fire 'em. Capn, I'm no rookie, I know how to handle myself.'

'He knows how to duck an Uzi' the brunet cop chipped in helpfully. Hutch flashed him a glare.

'Not helpin' partner. Shudup. Capn, please?'

Dobey shook his head. 'You say you're not a rookie, well stop actin' like one. The decision stands. We've spent the best part of 5 months setting this up. It was almost blown two weeks ago. I know it wasn't your fault, but you got hurt and they saw you. This time, we go for it and we nail these suckers. And you, Sergeant Hutchinson, will not be a part of it. Starsky will go in with Golec. They're both new to the job.'

'He used the full name Hutch. You should give up now' Starsky offered helpfully.

Dobey's hand rattled the desk again. 'And you can shut up too Starsky. You know the plan? You and Golec go in at 5.00pm, make the connection, wait for the rest of the team to show and then get the hell out of there. Safe. Unhurt.'

The brunet opened his mouth to say something and then took a sideways look at his new partner. Steve Golec had maybe ten years on Starsky but was one of those guys who liked to pretend that they were older and more world weary than their years. He'd been with BCPD for almost five years but had only recently transferred in to homicide. For the most part, Starsky and Golec had tried to avoid each other, but now the inevitable had happened. Golec returned Starsky's look with a blank face but it was clear from the older cop's eyes that he held nothing but contempt for the brunet.

'Maybe Hutch should...' Starsky was cut off by a thunderous look from his Captain. Dobey looked fit to explode and the brunet sensibly backed down and looked at the older cop at his side.

'5.00pm? Meet on East Maddison and transfer to your car – they probably know the Torino.'

Golec snorted. 'Everyone knows the striped tomato. It's not exactly subtle.'

Starsky stood up and glared at Golec. The older man looked up at him. 'First, it's a damned good car and second, there's only one guy gets to call it the striped tomato and unfortunately he aint coming with us on this job. I'll see you at 5.' The curly haired cop got up and stalked towards the door. He opened it, flicked one last glare at his Captain and walked through.

'And don't...' there was a resounding bang as Starsky slammed the door, '... slam the door' Dobey finished uselessly.

'He's a wild card. If anyone is gonna blow this operation clean out of the water its him' Golec said with a snicker.

Dobey fixed Golec with a stare. 'He's a damned fine officer. One of the best. And right now, he's your partner, like it or not. Now, you've got a job to do, so go do it.' The big black man picked up a file and started to rifle through it. Golec opened his mouth to retort, thought better of it and got up quietly, being sure to close the door gently behind him.

5.00pm saw Starsky park up the Torino a good quarter of a mile from Maddison and trot the short distance to Golec's waiting vehicle. Steve Golec drove a very sedate, (very ordinary and Starsky thought very old fashioned) Oldsmobile. It was a very dark green and was as inconspicuous as the Torino was loud. No-one would ever give it a second look and Starsky despised the car instantly. Even Hutch's old beater had some character to it. The curly haired cop opened the door and got in.

'You're late' Golec said, pointing at the big cream clock dial on the dash.

'I'm right on time, but we will be late if you don't move his piece of crap into position' Starsky retorted.

Without trying for a clever rejoinder Steve set the Oldsmobile in motion and a moment later they pulled to a halt at the top of an ally leading down off West Maddison. From where they sat, they could see clear down the narrow thoroughfare and it didn't take long for a door halfway down the alley to open and for two Latino men to walk out. They stopped, looked around and then lit up cigarettes, leaning casually against the wall.

'That's them. The one on the left is Lopez an' I think the other is Rodriguez. They're Sanna's right hand men and they're right on cue. Where's the other car?' Starsky said softly, his eyes scanning the ally.

'They'll be here' Golec muttered. 'It's only 3 past 5'

'They're gonna miss it. Where the fuck...' The brunet reached for the radio. 'Charlie four, come in.'

There was a crackle of static showing that no-one was on the other end of the mic. and Starsky slammed the receiver back on its cradle.

'Something's wrong. Hughes and his guys should be there by now and if we don't do sumthin, we're gonna lose 'em.'

Golec snorted. 'Our orders were to remain here Starsky. No heroics huh?'

The brunet scowled at his new partner. 'Five months. Five months they took to set his up and somehow I don't think Dobey is gonna be too happy if we sit on our butts and watch the whole operation go down the pan. If Hughes aint there, then we need to make a move. Now. I'm gonna walk casually down there like nuthin's wrong and you're gonna drive the car around to the bottom end of the ally and cut of their escape, ok?' Starsky had his hand on the door handle.

'And what then? There's going to be more of 'em in the warehouse. We can't take 'em all.'

The brunet shook his head. 'On your way around the block you call for backup. C'mon Golec, this aint the first bust you've been on.'

'It's the first with a loose cannon like you. We should stick to the plan and follow Dobey's orders.'

'We should go catch the bad guys. Welcome to the real world Golec, now drive. I'm goin' for a little walk.' With that, Starsky got out of the car, settling his Smith into the back of his jeans waistband. He closed the car door quietly, covered the butt of the gun with his jacket and started to walk nonchalantly down the alley.

Golec watched the man go and shrugged his shoulders. It was no skin off his nose if Starsky became bullet fodder but on the other hand if the curly haired cop pulled his off, then Golec could bask in reflected glory and maybe go back to somewhere quiet, like the stores. Quietly he set the big car in motion and drove slowly around the block. Half way around, he radioed for backup and Minnie's confident voice told him several black and whites were on their way.

Meanwhile, Starsky had started his walk down the alley. The Latinos were engrossed in conversation and didn't notice the solitary man walking towards them until Starsky was no more than ten yards away. Lopez looked around and stared at Starsky.

'Who the hell are you?'

'Huh? Me? Um. Just out for a walk, ya know.'

'Fuck off man. You don't walk around here' Lopez snapped.

Starsky held his hands up in mock surrender. 'Sorry. Had no idea. Hey, you got a light?'

Rodriguez snorted. 'Where's your cig?'

Starsky glanced down the alleyway just in time to see Golec's Oldsmobile daw to a halt at the bottom of the road. Slowly the brunet reached into his pocket with one hand, casually flipping his jacket hem out of the way of his gun with the other. From his jeans, Starsky drew his shield, flicked open the worn leather cover and held it out to the two men.

'Don't have one. Will this do?'

Lopez stared at the shield and snorted. 'Sure. You're playin cop. We can buy shitloads of those at the quayside. Cute. Now fuck off.'

'Let me cut you a deal, huh? You let me past. You open that door and you let me and my partner take a look inside, find Mr Sanna and arrest him, and you two dickheads stay out here and wait for the flatfoots to arrive.'

The two Latinos glanced at each other and Rodriguez snickered. 'You're one crazy son-of-a-bitch.'

Starsky saw Golec watching him and thought that anytime soon his partner would get out of the car to come back him up. With nothing but his Smith and Wessen to help him, Starsky ploughed on regardless. He gave an insane little giggle and rattler quick waggled the badge with his right hand and drew his gun with his left. He pointed it unwaveringly at the two men.

'That's a real badge, I'm a real cop and this is a real fuckin' gun. Back up against the wall nice and slow and keep your hands where I can see 'em.'

The Latinos looked at each other slowly and the sweat started to prickle down Starsky's back. This was not going as he'd planned and Golec was taking his time in getting to him. The two men didn't seem to want to move and as Starsky watched, as though in slow motion, Lopez reached into his jacket and pulled his own gun.

Everything happened at once. Starsky managed to loose the first shot. It clipped Rodriguez's shoulder and spun the man around. At the same time here was another crackle of gunfire and Starsky felt a searing pain high up on his inner thigh. The curly haired cop launched himself to one side, at the same time firing his own gun at Lopez. The Latino gave a shriek of pain, clutched his side and doubled over. Starsky hit the ground, his gun still pointed at Rodriguez but Rodriguez was looking at his fallen friend.

Starsky hit the ground with a thud, the breath knocked from his body. Concentrating on his antagonists as he was he didn't exactly pick the place to fall. The alleyway had a narrow sidewalk running down the side, the edge of which was marked by a stone ridge. As Starsky went down, his head connected with the curb and his last thought before darkness claimed him was that he wanted to strangle Golec.

Meanwhile, Golec had watched the gunfire from the safety of his car. Never one to put his own life in danger, the older cop only made his move when at least one of the Latinos was down and hurt. Only then did he draw his own gun, get out of the car and make his way cautiously up the alley, hugging the wall for cover. He saw Lopez draw, he heard two, or was it three shots and he saw Starsky fall to the ground. Rodriguez pulled his injured companion into the warehouse and Golec ran up the alley to Starsky's side. The cop's eyes were closed and he was bleeding from his leg and from a cut on the right side of his head. Golec felt for a pulse and found it, strong and even in Starsky's neck. As he started to lift the brunet, sirens came closer and a couple of black and whites pulled to a halt, one each end of the alley. As the uniforms started to approach, Starsky's eyes flickered open and he looked around.

'What happened?' he asked huskily.

'You took a bullet.'

'Bullet? Huh? Head?' Starsky's eyes were clouded and he seemed to make no sense.

'You remember the job?' Golec asked.

'Job?'

With a growing sense that everything was going to be ok, Golec continued. 'What's the last thing you remember?'

Starsky closed his eyes and thought past the pain in his head and his leg.

'I met up with you in your car and we drove to the top of the alley. There were...hey, where's the bad guys? They were smokin'.'

'That's the last you remember?' Golec asked.

'Yeah, pretty much. I...yeah. What happened? Where are they?'

Golec smiled. 'Lie still. Your leg is bleeding. It isn't bad. You started to walk down the alley. You didn't see them until the last minute. I saw they had a gun. They drew, I yelled at you to get down but you weren't fast enough. I managed to take one of them, but they were just too fast. Sorry.'

Starsky closed his eyes, his mind a blank. He felt spacey and sick and his mind was an utter blank. There was a black gap where his memories of the past half hour should have been, but from the looks of his injuries, he seemed to owe Golec. Starsky nodded. 'Hey thanks Pal. Now get me up huh? We need to get back to the Metro.'


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Dobey's face was like thunder, dark and scowling and his voice matched the face. Harold Dobey was pissed with a capital P and he really didn't know who to project his anger at first.

Once again, there were three other men in his office. It was 6.30 that same evening and a quarter of an hour ago Golec had strutted up the hallway to the squad room followed by a limping, pale Starsky. At the door the brunet had paused, composed himself and walked into the room, heading straight for the coffee percolator in the corner. Hutch had watched, had seen the blood seeping through the material of Starsky's jeans and had seen the cut on his partner's head. He'd started to round on Golec when Dobey had come to the door of his office and had yelled for Golec and Starsky to get in there. Hutch had followed.

'So, you wanna tell me what exactly happened? Five months. Five months it took to set his up and five minutes to blow it clear out of the water' Dobey snarled.

Starsky stood with his back to the wall, propping himself up on his one good leg. The other, injured limb burned fiercely and bleed freely but the brunet could bear weight on it and could move it, albeit painfully, so he knew nothing was broken. Only his pride was truly broken. The brunet shrugged his shoulders but Golec spoke first.

'If that dickhead hadn't gone in with all guns blazing...'

'Hey, who're ya callin' dickhead?' Starsky muttered.

'There's only one dickhead in this room an' I'm lookin' at him. The dickhead that didn't follow orders and nearly got himself a date with St Peter at the pearly gates.'

'You mean you didn't back him up' Hutch snapped.

'Back him up? I was the one who stopped Sanna's men from blowing him away!' Golec put up an award winning show of hurt but it was wasted on Dobey.

'You went in as a team. I want the story from the both of ya.'

'It'd better be me coz Poodle features spent most of the time with his nose in the dirt' Golec smirked.

'I was...'Starsky tried to interject but Golec shouted over him.

'He blew his draw. He wasn't fast enough and they had him in their sites.'

'Starsk doesn't fluff his draw. He's the best marksman in the Metro' Hutch blustered.

'Well there's a first time for everythin' an' tonight was it' Golec snapped back

Hutch stood up and took a step towards Golec who took a step backwards.

'Sit down Hutchinson. And you, Golec, cool it huh? This aint gettin' us anywhere' Dobey grunted.

Hutch turned to the chair. 'Just tell 'em Starsk. Starsk, for God's sake... Starsk? Starsky!' Hutch had turned just in time to see the brunet lean forward, rub his hand over his eyes and slide down the wall to end in a heap on the floor.

Whilst the argument had been raging Starsky felt like he was watching it from a distance. It wasn't as though the wounds on his head and leg were the worst he'd ever had – far from it. But the fall had knocked him out cold for a minute or so and when he came around he felt sick to his stomach. Golec hadn't asked if he needed the hospital and Starsky hadn't pushed the point. He hated the places with their antiseptic smells and air of despondency. All Starsky wanted to do was get home, have a bottle of ice cold beer and stay clear of Steve Golec for the rest of his life. As the argument went on, however, Starsky started to feel sicker and his vision started to narrow so that he seemed to be looking down a tube at Hutch. He recognised the signs and knew that if he didn't sit down quick, he would surely fall down. Giving up the fight, Starsky slid inelegantly down the wall and sat with his legs outstretched his chin on his chest.

Hutch crouched by his side a second later. 'Hey buddy, take some deep breaths huh?' The blond handed Starsky a paper cup of water and he sipped at it slowly.

'We need to get you to the hospital.'

Starsky looked up. 'Uh uh. No hospital. It's just a scratch, I'll be fine.'

Dobey came around from the back of his desk and looked down at the brunet. 'Hospital. You're as white as a sheet and you're bleedin' all over my floor.'

Starsky took a deep breath. 'I said I wasn't goin' to the hospital. I'm good. Hutch can practice his first aid on me when we get home.'

Hutch shook his head. 'Needs more'n a Bandaid partner. You need a doctor. At least get yourself checked out.'

'But I hate hospitals. They stick you with needles an' do awful stuff' Starsky whined.

'Fine, no hospital' Dobey capitulated. 'You can go down to sick bay then. Get yourself checked out and stay at home for a couple of days. I'm takin' you off the roster.

Starsky grinned. 'Thanks Cap'n.' He held a hand out to Hutch who pulled Starsky to his feet and held on whilst he brunet swayed.

'Is that it?' Golec asked incredulously. 'Five months work down the pan and...'

Dobey fixed the older cop with an iron stare. 'Golec shudup. We'll deal with this later. In the meantime, I want your report on my desk in an hour. Starsky, quit bleedin' on my floor and get to sick bay. NOW.'

Starsky flipped a cheeky salute Dobey's way and limped unsteadily out of the room. Hutch followed but not before glaring at Golec and wagging a finger his way.

'Just so as you know, we aren't finished with this topic' the blond muttered. Hutch closed the door and followed Starsky down the hallway.

Sick bay was in the basement of the large Metro building. It took up half the basement, the other half being made up of the firing range. Starsky for once took the elevator in deference to his bullet wound and as the elevator car ground to a halt he turned left and took the long cream painted corridor down to the well equipped sick bay.

'So what really happened?' Hutch asked.

'I have no idea. One minute I was walking towards Sanna's goons whilst Golec drove round to cut off their retreat and the next minute I was takin' a nap on the sidewalk with Steve's ugly face starin' down and yellin' at me.'

'Don't you remember Golec backin' you up?' Hutch pushed, certain that the older cop would have left the rough stuff to Starsky.

'I remember him gettin' all hot under the collar coz we weren't followin' orders to the letter.'

'And then he left you to it?'

Starsky put his hand on the door handle of the main doctor's office. 'Like I say...I have no clue. By the way, who's on duty today?'

Hutch cast a look at the name plate on the door and was about to pull Starsky back. 'Starsk, you maybe want to reconsider the hospital option.'

The brunet, however, was already walking into the office and Hutch was just in time to see his partner's shoulders hunch in surprise as he encountered the police surgeon coming out of an inner examination room.

Tania paused and looked from one cop to the other before giving a quiet snort. 'Well if it isn't Tweedle Dum and Tweedle Dee. Like I said before, you two are just joined at the hip, aren't you?'

Starsky took one look at his former girlfriend and turned so suddenly that he bumped into Hutch who had stopped behind him.

'I'm not stayin'. Goin' home. I have a Bandaid' he muttered darkly.

Hutch inhaled and let his breath out slowly. 'You need a doctor. It's either here or Memorial. You pick.'

'But it's her' Starsky hissed.

'So nice of you to recognise me' Tania snapped. 'Now is there something I can do for you, or do you intend to stand there making my office look untidy?'

'He's hurt' Hutch pointed at Starsky's bleeding leg unnecessarily.

'Oh my God! You should be a detective!'

'I mean he was shot.'

Tania scowled. 'He does have a voice you know. Or have you two taken your relationship a step further and communicate by way of telepathy now? I wouldn't put it past you. You do everything else together.'

'Tania don't do this. Not now' Starsky mumbled.

'Not now? Then when? When do we ever have a moment to ourselves. Jesus Dave, he was even in our bed with us.'

Hutch opened his mouth to make some clever reply just as Starsky passed a hand over his eyes and leaned heavily against the table.

'You need a doctor' Tania immediately took the brunet's arm and guided him into her consulting room.

'Thats what I was tellin' ya' Hutch snapped,

'Alone' Tania snarled closing the door firmly in Hutch's face. The flaxen haired cop debated whether to walk in or not. He had never really had an issue with the woman up until the day that she and Starsky had had the argument, but anyone who made his partner so miserable was anathema in Hutch's eyes. The blond put his hand on the door handle but then decided that the atmosphere was tense enough without him adding to the situation. Sitting down on the hard plastic chair in the waiting area, Hutch picked up a back copy of "Police News" and started to read.

Inside the consultation room Starsky stood warily by the side of the examination table as Tania slipped on a pair of rubber gloves and got a metal tray from the cupboard. She added needle, suture thread, a hypodermic needle and a small vial of some clear, colourless liquid.

'Take your jeans off' she threw over her shoulder.

Starsky sighed. His parting from the woman was still raw. They hadn't spoken since she'd thrown her shoes at him and he'd walked out of his apartment. Starsky had wanted to speak to Tania. He hated leaving the relationship on such a sour note, and yet when he'd tried to phone she'd been unavailable or had put the phone down on him. At no time had Tania tried to contact Starsky. Now, being in the same room as his ex with his pants round his ankles and a bullet graze so close to the family jewels didn't seem the right way to kiss and make up, but the brunet was feeling sick, dizzy and more than a little sore.

As he pulled the stiff denim material away from the wound, allowing the air to get to it, he felt the first real sting of pain. Until then, it had really been a burning sensation and a dull ache. Don't let anyone ever tell you that a bullet feels like you've been shot. It doesn't. Starsky knew from bitter experience that being shot felt like someone had punched him. Now, however, the burning sting told him he'd need more than a Bandaid and he eyed Tania's tray with resignation.

'Lie down and hold still' the doctor said. She was using what she thought of as her "professional" voice without a hint of warmth or feeling in it. Today. Tania was the Icemaiden.

Starsky did as he was told. He lay back on the examination table and stared at the ceiling. It was uncomfortable enough to have been shot where he'd been shot, but to have his ex with her hands a whisker away from Little Davey was as about embarrassing as it got. Starsky concentrated on the centre of his body.

_Don't you dare rise to the occasion ya little worm. Don't show her how happy you are to see her and...oh dear lord, she touched it! Ok, ok it was just an accident. She's concentratin' on her work and she's just cleanin' the wound with...Christ...feels like sulphuric acid! Stay quiet. Don't say nuthin. We can both get through this with some dignity and...damn, she's gone for the needle. Hate needles. Can't stand the fuckin' things and...Jesus, that hurt!_

Starsky continued to stare at the ceiling whilst Tania cleaned the bullet graze on his leg and added three sutures to close the wound. She admitted to herself that he'd been lucky. Another inch north and he'd have been singing falsetto, another half an inch to the west and the bullet would have hit the femoral artery. Then no amount of tourniquets or bandages would have saved the brunet from bleeding to death. As it was, Starsky had been incredibly lucky... and Tania had had the pain of having to put him back together.

'You're done down there' the woman said, starting to clear her things away.

'Starsky sat up and checked out the bright white dressing on his leg. It was neat, and now that he'd been sewn back together, it didn't even hurt too much. Only his head ached viciously and made him sick and dizzy.

'Great. I'll get outa your hair.'

Tania snorted. 'Not so fast. Let me check that cut on your head.'

'It's nuthin' Starsky lied, backing up slightly.

'Who's the doctor here? Let me take a look.' Tania pushed Starsky back down onto the table and from her top pocket she took a small penlight and shone it into Starsky's eyes one at a time. She was close...very close, their lips mere inches away from each other and this time, Little Davey showed just how happy he was to see the woman again.

Tania examined the wound on the side of Starsky's temple. It was crusted with blood and a deep blue bruise had formed beneath the cut. Taking some gauze, she cleaned the wound thoroughly and added another dressing, taping it down securely. Only then did she look her patient in the eye.

Those indigo pools invited her in, so that she wanted to plunge into their depths and drown in the man one more time. Starsky looked up at her and reached his hands to encircle her neck bringing her down, down until their lips were almost touching.

'I missed you' Starsky whispered.

Tania stiffened. 'Not enough to leave Hutch behind.'

The brunet sighed. 'Don't lets go there again huh? He's my partner. I thought you of all people would understand that.'

A look Starsky couldn't read flit across Tania's face. 'If you weren't so damned important to each other...'

'I won't do this again. I can't' Starsky muttered. He slid off the table and hitched up his pants almost angrily. Despite his dizziness he stood gazing at the woman.

'What would it take to give it one more go?'

Tania turned away. 'It's too late for that Dave. Much too late. It'd be so much easier if I could truly hate you. Get out. Get out now, ok? Right now.' The woman's voice was brittle, thin and for a moment Starsky wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms and kiss it all better. Instead, he sighed and limped towards the door, the pains in his leg and head somehow all the keener.

'Ok. I'm goin'. See? I'm gone.'

Tania waited until the door closed. She clung onto the side of the table, shaking for a few moments and then grabbed the phone from the wall and punched in some numbers. The phone connected.

'Have you met yet? No? Well pray he says yes, coz I don't know if I can do this.'


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

'Well? What did the Ice Maiden say?' Hutch got up off the chair as Starsky limped out of the examination room with his jacket slung over his shoulder, There was no reply as the brunet opened the door to the hallway and stepped through. Hutch followed.

'Huh? Is everything ok?'

'I'll live.'

'So what? She just...'

'Pissed me off as usual. I should'a just gone to Memorial. You're ex medical. You should know the dangers of opening old wounds.'

Hutch frowned. 'I tried to warn ya. What did she say about your injuries?'

'Nuthin. Just stuck me with more needles. The leg thing is fine. Couple'a stitches.'

'And your head?'

'Dunno. Concussion? Or is that confusion coz that's when things started gettin' real messy.'

'Messy as in...'

The brunet sighed. 'Messy as in I think I still love her... an' I think there's still sumthin there for her too.'

'You didn't...?'

'No! She had her hands full of needles an' stuff. And anyhow, I didn't think you were supposed to fuck your doctor.'

Hutch shook his head. 'You need to rest.'

Starsky turned and grinned. It was a brave show of indifference but the grin didn't light up the indigo blue eyes and Hutch wasn't fooled. 'I need a drink.'

'Not with a concussion you don't.'

'Hutch, I've been yelled at, shot at, yelled at again. I don't care if my head's gonna come off my shoulders. I need a drink so you either drive me to The Pits or I get a cab. Either way, I need a drink.'

The blond man followed as Starsky stomped off up the hallway, head up and slim hips strutting their stuff.

-oOoOoOoOoOoOo-

The moment Starsky walked into the loud music and flashing lights of The Pits he knew he'd made a big mistake. It was Friday – Disco Night and the DJ was in full flow. The BeeGees thundered out from the speakers and the small dance floor was crowded with men and women celebrating the start of the weekend. The air was warm and fuggy inside the bar, beer fumes and cigarette smoke mingling together to create a toxic blue haze. The bar itself was quiet and Huggy Bear looked up and smiled his big, broad, white smile as his two friends walked in. He indicated they should follow him through to the quieter end of the bar and they complied.

'I see the curly one has been making friends again' Huggy said, pointing at the white dressing adorning Starsky's temple.

'It's my naturally winning nature' the brunet replied looking at the beer Huggy had placed in front of him. Now that Starsky had got to the Pits, against Hutch's wishes, the brunet felt sick to his stomach and in need of a good sleep. There was no way on god's green earth, however, that he'd let Hutch know that the blond had been right, so Starsky took a sip of the drink and looked around him.

'Don't tell me, if it had been anywhere else than your head it'd really have hurt. No sense, no feelin'.'

'Gee. You say the nicest things' Starsky muttered darkly, not wanting to enlighten the bartender about the other wound, further south. His leg throbbed and he leaned against he bar, favouring his uninjured limb.

'And where was the blond one whilst you were using your winning ways?'

'He was sittin' in the office twiddlin' his thumbs.'

'Against my better judgement' Hutch snapped. 'I told you you should never have gone out with Golec.'

Starsky shrugged his shoulders. 'And exactly what choice did I have? It's not like Dobey was in the mood for negotiation. An' apart from that, I have to say he was right. They'd seen you. They'd made you for a cop. This way...'

'They just shot first and asked questions later?' Hutch replied with raised eyebrows.

'Shuddup.' It wasn't clever or witty but it was the only retort Starsky could come up with. Hutch snickered and looked around, finding himself next to an attractive, and apparently unattached red head. He was deep in conversation with the woman when a man threaded his way through the crowd, looked at Hutch, did a double take and headed towards the blond.

'Ken? Ken Hutchinson? Is that you? What the hell...?' The man's voice rose above the sound of the disco and Hutch looked up, straight into the eyes of the past.

Dave Starsky had spent the past years working day and night with his partner. He'd made a science of studying the blond's body language. He could read every nuance of Hutch's face, the set of his chin or the angle of his shoulders. At that moment Starsky read confusion and a deal of anger on the face of his buddy. The emotions flitted across Hutch's face like a cloud across the sun on a summer's evening but within a second Hutch had composed himself and smiled.

'Ryan?'

'One and the same. How're you doin' old friend?'

Hutch looked his old medical school buddy up and down. Ryan seemed to have grown taller. His waistline had increased for sure and he had the beginnings of a receding hairline, but there was no mistaking the man who'd gone to jail nine years ago. The blond cop swallowed hard and tried to keep the anger out of his voice.

'What're you doin' here?'

Ryan shrugged and looked over Hutch's shoulder to Starsky then back at Hutch. 'Is that any way to greet a long lost buddy? Jeez. Feel the love in this room. C'mere. Shake and make up huh?' He held out his hand and Hutch took it reluctantly.

'Sorry. It was just a shock to see you. When did you um...'

'Get out? A couple of months ago. I transferred to a great place about four years before I was due to get out. They had a medical facility, a study school, lab. In fact everything I needed to complete my studies. I qualified a couple of years ago. But enough of me. How're you, and um...who's this?'

Hutch seemed to shake himself out of a dream. 'This?'

Starsky reached around Hutch's body and held out his hand. 'Starsky. Dave Starsky. I'm Hutch's partner.'

Ryan raised an eyebrow. 'Partner?'

'We're cops.'

'As in police? Wow, Ken... Hutch? Did he call you Hutch? Sounds good. Suits you. But a cop? Didn't see that one coming, although...maybe in the scheme of things I should've known.' There was a hint of sarcasm in the voice which Hutch did his best to ignore.

'Why are you here Ryan?'

Starsky tapped Hutch on the shoulder. 'Cut the guy some slack huh?' he said quietly.

The blond flicked a scowl at his partner which Starsky read quickly. There was obviously some history between Ryan and Hutch but now didn't seem to be the right time to explore it. Instead Hutch drew in a deep breath.

'Sorry. It was just a surprise. Um how're ya doin'? I mean it's been, what, nine years?'

'Nine years and seven months to be precise, but who's counting? And how's the delectable Vanessa?' Ryan asked.

'Who knows. We um... we divorced shortly after I moved south. I haven't seen her in a couple of years.'

Starsky watched his buddy talking to the stranger. Hutch's shoulders had relaxed and now that the ice had been broken the blond seemed more comfortable with the encounter. Starsky on the other hand was feeling the effects of the day. He'd floated along on a river of adrenaline. The hormone had cushioned him from the worst of the pain but now, as he relaxed, the adrenaline left his system and the pains in his leg and head nagged at him. They weren't the worst injuries he'd ever had, but still, he felt tired and sore. Maybe now that Hutch had someone else to talk to, the brunet could slip away without Hutch's "I told you so" speech. Starsky leaned forwards and tapped his friend on the shoulder.

'I hate to cut and run, but I'm gonna take a cab home' he said into Hutch's ear.

'What? Are you ok? I told...'

Starsky raised his hand. 'I'm fine. Just tired. Take the chance to catch up on old times huh? I'll see you in the morning.'

Hutch was about to say something else when Ryan smiled and interrupted. 'Sorry. I didn't mean to spoil your night...'

'S'ok, I need my beauty sleep. It's been a tough day. Nice meetin' ya Ryan. Maybe we'll meet up again?'

'If Ke...Hutch hasn't changed, I should think that's a certainty' Ryan said with a smile. 'Hope you feel better tomorrow.'

Starsky limped away as Ryan turned back to Hutch. The blond was studying him quietly.

'Just why are you here Ryan? After all these years.'

'Yeah, it's been a long time. I could have had parole, but then I wouldn't have had all the facilities I could use inside. These modern day jails are so well equipped. It's called rehabilitation of offenders. Amazing.'

'I'm real glad for ya' Hutch snapped 'but I'll ask again. Why come find me? Why now?'

'Can't I just feel the need to catch up with old friends?' Ryan asked, sipping at his beer.

'You never did anythin' without a purpose. What d'ya want?'

The man frowned. 'I'm hurt. But you're right, there is something I wanted to run past you. Something that could interest the both of us. Is there somewhere quieter we can talk?'

'Here's fine. I don't have a lot to talk about.'

'Oh but I think you do. I'm close Ken. So close.'

'Close? Close to what? Close to... Oh my god you're not still dreaming of the Choryzine are ya?'

'Not dreaming of it Ken. Not dreaming. I have it. It's within my grasp and it could be within yours too. I have the genome mapped out. I have it down to the very last base pair. I know that little sucker inside and out. It's not just a cure for the common cold Ken. It's far more than that.'

The zeal in Ryan's voice grated at Hutch's nerves and the blond gritted his teeth. 'You know where this got you last time. Give it up Ryan. Give it up now. There's far more things you could turn your talents to.'

'But none as lucrative. None as high profile as this. Please, just let me outline the plan huh? Somewhere quieter.'

Hutch sighed deeply and looked around. There was a small room at the back of the bar that Huggy kept for poker games and the like. Tonight, with the disco in full swing it was disused and the blond got up from the bar stool and headed around the end of the bar. Ryan followed and closed the door to the small room behind him. Hutch turned and leaned against the table at the centre. He folded his arms.

'So, tell me.'

'Ken, I'm on the brink.' Ryan's face lit up with zeal. 'I isolated the base pairs, I mapped it from one end of the strand to the other. It's far more than a cure for a cold Ken. This is like gold dust. In the right potency this is germ warfare at its best – worth a fortune to the right buyer. It's there, ready. All I need is the missing link.'

Hutch had blanched at the way Ryan spoke about his discovery. He'd always suspected that Ryan was more interested in the business possibilities of their drug rather than the humanitarian aspect, but this new turn took him by surprise. 'Missing link? And that would be...'

'Why you of course. You were the one who was always the best at reverse engineering. I need that ability now.'

'For what? You said you had this thing mapped. Good for you.'

Ryan frowned. 'I have the Choryzine, yes. What I don't have is an antidote.'

'And you need me how? I've been out of the medical field for nine years Ryan. Even if I wanted to help you I couldn't.'

'Couldn't... or won't?'

Hutch got up suddenly from the table corner. 'I don't know what you're going to do with this Ryan. I have no idea what you expect to gain. Sure, you could make money from a cure...if you've ironed out the kinks. As far as I remember, Choryzine kills more than it cures.'

'So you're telling me you don't want any part of this? I don't believe you! You'll earn more in a month than you could get in a lifetime as a cop. Who wouldn't want that opportunity?'

'Me. I have all I need, and that don't include you. It's been good meeting you Ryan, but I'm gonna say this just once. Get outa my town and outa my life, or I'll run you out of Bay City so fast your feet won't touch the ground.'

Ryan raised his hands in defeat. 'Sorry. No hard feelings huh? I had to try – had to offer you the opportunity, after all, it was your research as well as mine that got us this far. I'm sorry Hutch. Sorry to have bothered you.'

Hutch frowned. 'I'm sorry too Ryan, but I mean what I say. Get out, and stay out huh? I don't wanna see your face around here any time soon.'

'Can't we just have a final drink for old times sake?' Ryan asked smoothly.

Hutch opened the door to the small room. 'No drinks. You lost my friendship when you tried to saddle me with the blame for that guy dying. This is me leaving. Close the door on your way out and leave me alone huh?' Hutch hurried out of the room, out of the Pits and climbed into his car, his heart hammering in his chest.

Back in the room Ryan watched Hutch go. 'I can't promise to leave you alone old friend. One way or another, you're gonna help me get what's due to me.'


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

The sun was just beginning to shine through the crack in the curtains when Starsky woke up, ran his fingers through his hair and winced as his hand accidentally brushed against the graze and bruise on his forehead. Slowly the brunet rolled over onto his back and carefully stretched, arching his back and reaching up to the head of the bed. The stretch put pressure on the stitches in his leg, but it was nothing the cop couldn't tolerate and Starsky snuggled his head back onto the pillow, bed-warm and comfortable. His relaxation, however, was cut short by a brief knock at the door. Carefully, Starsky reached a hand under his pillow, touching the cold metal butt of his pistol.

'Yeah?'

A familiar blond head poked around the bedroom door and Starsky withdrew his hand, snorting softly to himself and berating himself for distrusting people enough to sleep with his gun by his side. Ever since Crazy George Prudholme had put a contract out on his girl, Starsky had slept with Mr Smith and Mr Wessen close by. The gun had kept him safe so far, and he didn't care if Hutch called him paranoid. He was at least alive.

'Hey. Mornin'.'

Hutch walked into the room and laid a cup of coffee down on the bedside table. 'How's the sick and distressed feelin' his morning?'

'Like I've been kicked into the middle of next week. Other than that, fine.'

'Dobey said to tell you to stay home for the rest of the week.'

Starsky snickered. 'That's big of him. It's Friday already. How was your night?'

A shadow fell over Hutch's face. 'Fine.'

'That's it? Fine? I thought you hadn't seen that guy for ever. Why do I think it wasn't a great reunion?'

The blond shook his head. 'We weren't that close. It was ok.'

'And?'

'And what?'

'Is he around for long? Are you gonna see him again? Do I get a chance to meet him properly?'

'Jeez Starsk' Hutch got up from the edge of the bed suddenly, setting Starsky's coffee cup rattling, 'you make it sound like he's my new date! I told ya. He's nothin' more'n an acquaintance.'

'Ok, ok! Sorry. It just looked like he was glad to see ya.'

'Yeah, well. I um... I gotta go or Dobey'll have my guts. You stay put and rest huh? An' if you need anythin' just ring.'

Starsky flipped a cheeky salute. 'Sure. Have a good day. See you tonight.'

The door closed and Starsky was left wondering about the guy at The Pits. Ryan? Was that his name? Starsky had seen this reaction in Hutch once before – the day that his partner had introduced him to the ex Mrs Hutchinson. Vanessa had regarded Starsky suspiciously and had been cool with him whilst Hutch had remained tense, his shoulders hunched. Afterwards the blond had refused to talk about Van and had resisted all Starsky's attempts at questions. It wasn't until much later that Starsky had realised why Hutch had been so recalcitrant about his former wife. Was it the same sort of story with Ryan? And if so, what on earth had the man done to Hutch to provoke such a response? Starsky knew one thing for sure – if he wanted the history, he'd have to tread carefully or Hutch would clam up so tight he wouldn't speak for days.

Carefully Starsky got out of bed. His leg had stiffened overnight and a deep blue bruise poked out from beneath the dressing, but he could walk ok it and he limped into the bathroom. As he started to run the water for a shave however, the telephone started to ring. The brunet cursed, considered leaving it but then thought better of it. He turned the hot water off and went to answer.

'Starsky.'

The cop was stunned at the sound of the woman's voice on the other end of the line.

'Dave?'

'Tania?'

'I was just um...'

'Wanting to start round two? I'm not in the mood for it.'

'No! I... I just wondered um... how's the leg?'

'I don't recall you offerin' to make house calls before.'

Tania sighed down the phone. 'Ok, I'm sorry. I know I've been a real bitch but... seeing you yesterday... seeing you hurt... it did something to me. It...'

'I bet you had a real laugh' Starsky snapped. He was hurt and he was caught off balance by the woman's call. Despite his best intentions, Starsky did still love Tania, there was no denying it. Now it seemed, his initial assumption was correct – the feeling was mutual. The brunet had tried all ways to harden his heart; to build a wall around his feelings. To have Tania ring him now brought his hard fought for wall crashing down. And for some inexplicable reason, Starsky was angry.

'Why would I laugh? You were hurt and... vulnerable. I wanted to check on you.'

'So you checked. I'm fine.'

'Dave don't be like this' Tania pleaded.

'Like what?'

'Cold. Sharp. I wanted to ask... I wanted to see you again.'

Starsky took a sharp intake of breath. A half of him wanted to go back to how they'd been before that fateful day, whilst the other part of him, the part interested only in self preservation wanted to slam the phone down and go hide in his room. 'Why?' he asked carefully.

'Because I do. Does there have to be another reason? What we had was good Dave. Better than good – it was great. We could go back to that, I know we could.'

'And Hutch? What happens the next time you see him?'

Again Tania sighed. 'One step at a time Dave. Can we see each other again?'

'No.' Starsky put the phone down and stared at the receiver. For a full minute he stared at the instrument, his mind in turmoil. The brunet admitted to himself that this was so unlike him. Starsky had always been the sort to make friends easily. Whist Hutch was the one who bore grudges, Starsky had always believed that a friendship should never end on a sour note. All of his other ex girlfriends were still friends with him. He had such an easy going way with him that even if he broke up with them, they never closed him off from their lives. So what was it with Tania? What was it about this one woman that made Starsky feel this way? He'd never distrusted a woman before but now he felt he spectre of distrust at the back of his mind. There was just something about Tania...

Slowly he limped back into the bathroom and finished shaving. As he rinsed the last of the foam from his face, Starsky took a long hard look in the mirror.

'You're a fool Dave Starsky. She wanted to kiss and make up and you blew her off. Idiot! You know what Ma always said. Never go to bed on an argument? Well you've slept too many times since you and she parted. Time to make up. Time to grow up.'

Starsky gave himself one more glare in the mirror, dried himself and went back out into his living room. The phone book on the table invited him to take a look and he flicked through the pages until he found Tania's number. For a moment he sat staring at the ink on the page. Should he? Shouldn't he?

Starsky stood up abruptly and grabbed the phone. Before he could think further, he punched the numbers into the phone and put the receiver to his ear, his fingers curled loosely around the hand set. The phone started to ring and the brunet had second, third and fourth thoughts. In fact, so unsure was he that he was just about to put the phone down when it picked up at the other end. Starsky took a deep breath.

'When did you want to meet?' he asked.

'Dave?'

'Who else?'

'Um... this afternoon? Is that ok?'

'Here?'

'No. Come to my place. We need to talk.'

The brunet closed his eyes. 'Your place. Ok.'

'And Dave?' Tania's voice sounded brittle. 'Don't tell Hutch? Huh?'

Starsky started to rise to the bait and then thought better of it. If he was committed to making this work, then an argument down the phone wasn't the right way to go about it. 'Ok. See you around four' he said and put the phone down softly.

'Now what?' he asked himself as he limped into the kitchen to make another coffee.

oOoOoOoOoOo

Dressed in a comfortable, slightly looser pair of jeans in deference to the wound on his leg Starsky got out of the Torino and looked up at the town house owned by Tania. Unconsciously he straightened the collar of his favourite navy blue tee shirt, squared his shoulders, closed the car door and walked up to the front door, curious and a little afraid about the meeting.

He'd had a phone call from Hutch at lunchtime that day. God, that man was such a mother hen! The blond had asked about his head, his leg; had he taken his meds? And Starsky had answered to Hutch's satisfaction. The blond had gone on to moan about the state of the paperwork in the office, the noise from the cleaners, Dobey's mood and the hardness of his new chair. It was all harmless, mundane talk and Starsky had half-listened, making the right noises in the appropriate places. At the end of ten minutes, the brunet's ear was hot and Hutch couldn't find anything else to complain about.

'So how's it with you?' Hutch had asked and for a second, Starsky thought of telling his friend about the telephone conversation with Tania and his assignation that afternoon. He was used to sharing just about everything with Hutch, but this time, Starsky felt himself wanting to keep this snippet to himself. Whatever it was about Hutch's mood, Starsky opened his mouth, thought better of it and stopped himself and merely answering that he was fine and bored out of his mind.

Now, as Starsky stood in front of Tania's shiny green front door, for some inexplicable reason, he felt stupid for not having told Hutch what he was doing. With some trepidation Starsky knocked on the door and waited. A moment later Tania opened the door.

'Hey. I'm glad you decided to come' she said, standing to one side to let him in.

'I'm not stayin' long' Starsky muttered quietly. He felt uncomfortable, on edge, and he didn't understand why.

'That's ok. I just...well, I just wanted to see you again.'

'You said that already. So here I am.' The brunet stood awkwardly just inside the front door.

Tania smiled at him. It was an "almost" smile that didn't reach her eyes, but she was trying and Starsky smiled back and relaxed marginally.

'Yeah, yeah. Would you um... Would you like some tea? Coffee? A beer?'

'No alcohol. You gave me those antibiotics things. Coffee's fine.'

Starsky walked into the large living room as the woman started to busy herself in the kitchen. The small sounds of domesticity soothed Starsky's nerves and he sat himself down on one of the large, cream coloured chairs in the living room and looked around. He'd been to Tania's on only a couple of occasions and both times it had been an in and out affair. It had never seemed odd to the brunet that she didn't want him to linger in her house. They had always been on their way out – to a party, or to the cinema. Now he got a chance to really look around.

The room was large, but not overly so. It was decorated in cream and white with a deep pile cream carpet. The suite was also cream, but the overload of pastel was diluted by deep red cushions on the sofa matching a deep red rug by the fireplace. Artwork decorated one wall – mostly black and white photographs which Starsky realised were signed by the photographer – Richard Avedon. He whistled under his breath, knowing they were worth a fortune.

The cop jumped slightly as Tania came back into the room bearing two coffee cups. She set one down by Starsky's side and went to sit on the sofa at the other side of the large coffee table.

'So um. How's the leg?'

'Like I said on the phone, it's fine.'

'And your head? No dizziness? No double vision?'

Starsky scowled. 'Again, it's fine. Tania why did you want me to come here? If it's just to check on me you did that already on the phone.' The words sounded harsh even to Starsky and he stopped himself, picked up the drink and took a long, slow chug of the black liquid. Tania watched him and then sat back on the sofa.

'I just wanted you to come. I wanted to see you again.'

'So you've seen me. Is there nothing else?' Something in Starsky wanted the woman to open up and tell him how much she loved him and how much she'd missed him, because sitting here in her room, that's exactly how Starsky felt about Tania. He took another drink.

'Well there is something. Someone I think you should meet' the woman said slowly. Starsky stared at her hard. Tania's lips seemed to be moving slower, as though she was a video tape playing out of sinc. The room was shimmying around him and the brunet lurched to his feet.

'Is that what this is all about? You wanna show off the latest moron to want to go out with you?' Starsky started for the front door although his feet didn't seem to want to move as rapidly as his body did. He stumbled against a chair and pushed himself up, wiping a hand over his forehead. Maybe the knock on his head was taking effect after all. Curiously, considering how solicitous Tania had been earlier, she didn't seem to be overly concerned now.

Needing fresh air, Starsky put his hand on the front door handle, amazed a moment later when another hand appeared and knocked his own out of the way.

'Hey!' he managed to breathe and squinted at the wavering, fuzzy blob in front of him. Another blob appeared at his other side and Starsky's cop senses belatedly sprang to life. The brunet's left hand went for his gun at the same time as blob number one grabbed him around the neck and bore him to the ground. Starsky struggled against his two assailants even though his limbs refused to work like he needed them to. The brunet looked up to see Tania looking down at him. The two men had his hands behind his back and he felt the cold, hard metal of handcuffs snap around his wrists.

Starsky had just enough wits about him to look up into Tania's eyes and ask 'Why?' before the drug in his coffee took full effect and the world shrank down and finally winked out like a television turned off at the end of the night.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

'And a goooooood morning to Bay City. It's gonna be another hot one with temperatures in the high 80s and humidity of 75. Baton down the hatches, turn up the air conditioning and enjoy The Drifters and Under the Boardwalk.' The voice of "Sweet Stevie Unwin" from Bay City Radio blared from Hutch's bedside radio and the opening chords to the song started as the blond cop opened his eyes and rubbed his fingers through his hair. Luxuriating in the cool sheets on his bed, Hutch stretched and started to psych himself up for his customary mile long run around the park. It was never fun particularly during the sticky summer months, but the blond cop prided himself on looking after his body, unlike his partner who seemed to be able to emulate a human garbage can without putting on a pound in weight.

The previous night he'd telephoned Starsky at about 8.30. There was no answer, but as the brunet had been given codeine tablets for the pain in his leg, Hutch wasn't surprised. Whatever could be said about Starsky, he was certainly a lightweight when it came to medication. Hutch had snickered to himself as he put the phone down. Even Motrin knocked his partner out – he could just imagine Starsky sound asleep, cushioned in the arms of Morpheus. At least the brunet would have a good rest during the weekend. By Monday he'd be ready to go back to work.

Slowly, Hutch flung back the sheets and swung his legs out of bed, stretching the muscles in his back that always protested first thing in the morning. Carefully he flexed his shoulders and stretched the muscles in his neck before getting up and grabbing his favourite green track suit from the chair by the door. Running was a way of life for the blond. Maybe it was the sight of his slightly overweight father, or maybe it was the endorphins released as he pounded the parkland tracks – whatever, Hutch never felt complete until he'd run his usual route, showered and had his first glass of power shake.

The morning was coolish so far. There was a slight breeze coming off the ocean and as Hutch ran he enjoyed the cool breeze ruffling through his wheaten bangs and caressing like lovers fingertips on his scalp. Sweat trickled down his back but his long legs ate up the ground and in a little over four minutes he was turning the corner back onto the block where Venice Place lay. Slowing, the blond came to a halt in front of his house and bent at the waist, breathing deeply. He stretched his hamstrings, following his usual warm-down program. Everything the same. Everything comfortable. Everything just as it should be. Hutch wiped his hand over his forehead, turned and was about to put his hand on his door handle when his eyes fell upon a small white note pushed beneath his door. The blond cursed, bent and picked the paper up, bounding up his steps two at a time. He took the key from the lintel above the door, pushed open the door and put the paper down on his table as he started stripping off to take a shower.

It wasn't until he was washed, dried, shaved and dressed that Hutch saw the note again. He'd supposed that Helene from the hairdressers next door was once more asking for his help, maybe hanging a picture or nursing a plant. He didn't mind helping the woman – she was middle aged and treated him more like a son than a neighbour, but sometimes she took advantage, asking him to feed her cat whilst she was away, or building some flat-pack piece of furniture she'd bought cheap from a discount store.

With the power shake in his hand, Hutch took the small slip of white paper and flicked it open between his thumb and forefinger. The drink stopped on its way to his mouth and Hutch's eyes skimmed the black ink on the page. Slowly he put down the glass and grabbed the phone, dialling the number he knew by heart. The phone connected and the blond listened with mounting panic to the tone at the other end as it went unanswered. Fifteen rings later, Hutch slammed down the phone and perched on the arm of his sofa as he stared at the words on the page again. They were printed from a typewriter, but Hutch didn't need handwriting to know who they had come from and the cop's heart stood still.

**Your friend is helping me with my research.**

**Come to the clinic and tell no-one. You of all people know what I'm capable of.**

**Ryan.**

oOoOoOoOo

There was an annoying itchy, stiff feeling on the side of Dave Starsky's face and a pain behind his eyes that refused to go away. The brunet felt dizzy but there again, he also felt rested, which seemed strange because his arms and shoulders ached.

Very slowly, Starsky opened his eyes. His sight was blurry and at first he could make out nothing but shiny, silvery vertical stripes. The stiff feeling on the side of his face seemed to grow and the brunet was instantly transported back a year to a rocky hideout and a blond waif of a girl kneeling in front of him. Was he back? Or had he been dreaming and he'd never left? Confusion ran through the brunet's head.

'Gail?' he mumbled.

A cool cloth appeared and dabbed at the side of his face. Starsky winced but a soft hand held him still and the dabbing continued. Obviously the wound on his head had been bleeding again because... because... Starsky fought for his memories and slowly but surely they started to return. He remembered going to Tania's house and he remembered his drink, his argument with the woman and then...

Suddenly the ache in his hands arms and shoulders made sense and awareness came flooding back. Starsky squeezed his eyes closed and then opened them fully, looking right into Tania's face. The woman stopped cleaning the dried blood from the side of the cop's face.

'Tania? Where are we? What happened?' The questions tumbled from the brunet's lips as he tried to pull himself upright. Starsky found that he was sitting on the floor of a small cream painted room. There were tiles on the floor and against one wall was a narrow hospital cot. The cop's arms were pulled above his head and held together by handcuffs secured to an eyelet let into the wall. It looked like the kind of thing that the nurses used to secure the bed in one position. Whatever it was Starsky was held securely and uncomfortably. His head wound hurt and had obviously bled whilst he'd been unconscious and as he looked down, Starsky realised that the wound on his leg too had opened and had once more soaked his jeans. He focussed on the woman by his side.

'What happened? Are you alright? Who...?'

Tania laid a finger across Starsky's lips. 'Sssh. Don't try to think just yet. You took another blow to your head when you fell.'

'Are you ok honey?'

Tania nodded and indeed she looked unharmed. 'I'm fine.'

'Can you unlock my hands? We gotta get outa here before they come back...whoever they are.'

'Dave don't. Just be quiet huh?' Tania said softly. 'Don't talk.'

'But... Have they hurt you? Threatened you?' Starsky's eyes searched the woman's face. She looked ok. Dammit she looked so much better than ok, and yet there was a haunted, hunted look in her eyes that set Starsky's nerves jangling.

'No, no-one has hurt me. I'm fine.'

Starsky started to pull at the cuffs around his wrists. 'Where are we? How many of 'em are there? Can we take 'em? Can you get to a phone...? call Hutch?'

'I'm not going to call Hutch' Tania said softly.

'Honey this is no time to keep arguin' about him. Later. Right now we...'

Starsky's words were cut off by the door opening. The cop stiffened and glared at the door as a tall, balding man walked through. It took Starsky a couple of seconds to recognise Hutch's friend from the Pits the previous night.

'What the fuck...?'

Ryan smiled. 'I'm glad to see you're awake. Tania must have worked her magic on you.'

Starsky fought to get his feet under him so that he could stand. He struggled with the cuffs secured to the wall and as he moved his vision blurred and the deep pain behind his eyes threatened to make him throw up. Blood started to seep down his face again and the struggle did nothing else than abrade the skin around his wrists. Tania put a hand on his shoulder.

'Dave, be still. Don't do this to yourself.'

'You don't understand. I knew there was something about... Has he hurt ya? Threatened ya?'

Slowly Tania stood, looking down at Starsky almost sympathetically. 'No, it's you that doesn't understand Dave. In a way, I almost feel sorry.' The woman turned slowly and walked over to Ryan who held out his arm for her. She took Ryan's hand and he kissed her gently on the lips, enfolding her in his arms. Ryan looked over Tania's shoulder to Starsky.

'Always the looser huh? Just like our mutual friend.'

'Tania?' Starsky eyes narrowed as he slumped back against the wall. The cool plaster at his back helped to ground him although it did nothing to help the vicious pains in his head. The cop leaned his head back against the wall and tried to calm the hammering of his heart against his ribcage and make sense of what was going on.

'Tania?' he whispered again.

Ryan kissed the woman again. She looked up into his eyes, her back still to Starsky.

'You can go darling. There's no use you being here right now' Ryan said.

'Tania' Starsky called.

Without a backwards glance Tania knocked on the door. There was the sound of a key turning in a lock and a moment later the door swung open and she walked through it. The door closed behind her leaving Ryan and Starsky alone in the room. Starsky swallowed down the bile in his throat.

'What's this all about? Kidnapping a cop is a federal offence. You're looking at 15 to 20.'

Ryan walked further into the room and hunkered down in front of Starsky, carefully positioning himself just outside the reach of the cop's legs. 'I'm going to make you famous.'

'This kinda fame I can do without. Let me go. We can talk.'

'I don't wanna talk. Talk's cheap.'

'Hutch'll find me.'

Ryan grinned. 'I'm countin' on it buddy. He always was the reliable kind. Always safe, always wantin' to take the safe option.'

'You don't know him.'

The balding man cocked his head on one side. 'No? I knew him before you'd even met. Did he tell you about me?'

Starsky sighed. 'I never had that pleasure.'

'Aww. I'm upset! We were close - maybe as close as you two are now. We were at medical school together and I have to tell you, he's wasted as a cop. Did he tell you he had a brilliant mind for research?'

'Hutch?'

'Oh yeah. Hard to believe aint it? Inside that pretty blond head there's an actual brain! Fully functional and brilliant. We were on the verge of fortune and glory, me and ol' Ken.'

'So what's this got to do with me?'

Ryan shrugged his shoulders. 'In a way, nothin'. Consider yourself a pawn in my game of chess. You're the bait in the trap. And I guess you're the leverage I'm gonna need to persuade good ol', safe ol' Kenny that he should complete his work. Who knows? He may even give you a share of his millions. If you're still around.'

'Hutch don't give in to threats. You're makin' a big mistake.'

Ryan stood and walked towards the door. 'Somehow I don't think so. I've had a while to consider my options. Nine whole years in fact. Time for plannin's over. If I know Ken, he's on his way here right now.' The man looked at his watch. 'Which means I have to love ya and leave ya. It was good catchin' up with ya buddy. It's a shame we didn't have longer. But right now I should be a good host and go and meet my old friend. Have a good rest Starsky. I want you refreshed and ready. Wouldn't do for you to get sick...right before you get sick would it?'


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Hutch slammed the big brown car into gear and lurched away from Venice Place. In his head, he was back, ten years ago, facing the cops again over that blank, cream coloured table as they questioned him about his work and his research partner. In that time Hutch had learned to hate Ryan. Apparently his so called friend was laying most of the blame firmly at Hutch's feet and for almost six months Hutch was treated like – and felt like- the murderer he was supposed to be. His professors at medical school were understanding and stood by him, as did his Mom and Dad but in the rest of the community, tongues wagged and fingers were pointed. Fortunately his Dad had sufficient standing in the community (and enough money) to buy the best lawyer for his son, but the mental scars of the questioning and the trial still hurt Hutch more than he cared to admit.

After the trial and Hutch's evidence, the medical school offered him the chance to re-sit the final year, but with all that had gone on, Hutch had refused point blank to consider it. That decision alone put up a rift between himself and his Dad, but it also gave Hutch the opportunity to leave the close knit Minnesota community and come west, to a new life, a new career, and a new friend.

Dreams of the victim, Daniel De La Vigo had haunted the blond man for years. He had read the autopsy report on the poor man – how he had displayed the common symptoms of a cold or flu, but had also been covered in bruises and cuts, as though he'd been fighting. How, when they scanned his head, his brain had swelled, especially an area of the frontal lobe usually associated with memory and with emotions such as fear and anger. The conclusion made for gruesome reading. Daniel De La Vigo had died of a massive overdose of adrenaline in his body associated with his "Fight/Flight" responses and had his body not simply shut down, he would have killed or been killed out on the streets.

Hutch's hands gripped the steering wheel of the LTD so tightly that his knuckles showed white. Ryan, he knew seemed to be capable of anything. The blond cop was in no doubt that Starsky would not simply have agreed to "aid Ryan with his research". Was the brunet hurt? And exactly what research did Ryan have in mind? Hutch threw the car around a bend with a squeal from its tortured tyres. The clinic was out in the hills behind the city. Ryan had given Hutch his card that night in the Pits and now the blond studied the address.

There was a small community called Mesa Verde. The residents were all rich professionals with unique houses. It was a beautiful community for the rich and famous. A wonderfully manicured golf course – spa complex... and now it seemed, an exclusive clinic right on their doorstep. Even Hutch had to admit that it was the perfect cover for anyone who wanted to make money whilst still keeping off the cop's radar. When Ryan had given him the card, Hutch had commented that Ryan seemed to have fallen on his feet. The balding man had smiled and had told Hutch what a perfect place it was to work, and why didn't Hutch come up and take a look – change career paths again – make the big bucks.

Of course, Hutch had refused point blank and curiously there was no argument. Ryan had simply nodded and said that he thought Hutch would change his mind. Now the blond cop realised what Ryan had been planning.

Hutch turned his car right into an impressive gateway with a wrought iron sign announcing Mesa Verde Clinic – entrance. The softly curving drive was bounded by beautifully tended green lawns, sprinklers sending sprays of water in graceful arches between tall cypress trees. Everything oozed money and the hackles rose on Hutch's neck. He pulled the car to a halt outside the front door of the clinic, checked his gun was accessible in its holster and got out of the battered vehicle. High on the wall an electronic camera followed his movements and so it was unsurprising that as Hutch got to the front door it opened inwards showing a close carpeted and pale grey painted foyer.

Hutch cautiously stepped inside, catching sight of the big guard dressed in green scrubs who closed the door behind him. The cop had a chance to check out the bulge beneath the man's arm, showing he was armed before a familiar voice sounded across the entrance hall.

'Ken! So glad you could come. Come in, I have a cold beer with your name on it.' Ryan stood at the foot of a set of stairs leading up onto an upper floor. He looked calm, as though nothing unusual had happened and indeed, a pretty receptionist on the front desk smiled at Hutch as he walked past. Nothing seemed out of place – except the jangling nerves and bow-tight sinews down Hutch's back. The cop ignored Ryan's outstretched hand and followed the balding man up the steps silently, his eyes taking in the deep dark blue carpet, the pale grey walls and the faux antique chairs on the first landing. Whatever set-up Ryan had here, no expense seemed to have been spared. It rivalled Hutch's father's own private clinic and through an open doorway, Hutch saw a patient on a bed, a nurse massaging his back and neck whilst the cool breezes made the white voile curtains at the window flutter gently.

At the end of the hallway, Ryan turned right and opened a door, indicating Hutch should follow. The flaxen haired cop walked into the room and stopped suddenly. It was one of the best equipped laboratories that he'd ever seen - equally as good, if not better than the lab at First Minnesota where he'd worked all those years ago. Hutch dragged his attention back to Ryan, who stood quietly watching the cop's eyes darting around the room, taking it all in.

'Impressive huh?' Ryan smiled.

'Yeah, impressive. Where's Starsky?' Hutch could no longer keep the anger out of his voice.

'Later. I wanted you to see the lab – to see what you've been passing up.'

'To hell with the lab. I want to see my partner now.' Hutch took a step forwards and immediately the guard in the green scrubs echoed the move. Ryan put up a hand and the big guard stopped.

'Fine. I'm hurt that you'd prefer to see him rather than your old buddy from years ago, but if that's what you want... Mr Martin will check you over before we find what Mr Starsky is up to.' Ryan nodded at the guard who took two steps to Hutch. The blond watched him come and knew it was pointless at this stage to put up too much of a fight. Let Ryan think he was still the quiet, docile guy from years ago. Another opportunity to get back at Ryan would surely come. Besides, if Hutch got hurt, he would be of no use to Starsky.

The cop allowed Mr Martin to push him against the wall. Hutch assumed the position, hands high against the cool grey plaster and legs wide whilst the guard professionally frisked him. Mr Martin took the Colt from the holster and handed it to Ryan who checked the safety was on and then tucked it into the waistband of his pants.

'Again, I'm hurt' Ryan smiled. 'Bringing a gun along to a reunion. Tsk tsk.'

Mr Martin let Hutch up from the wall and the blond turned to face his old friend. 'What did you expect? Now, where's Starsky?'

'He's safe. I wanted to show you what you've been missing. All his could still be yours Ken. Just look at all this equipment. Doesn't it make you want to work again?'

'No.'

'Oh come on! You were a born researcher. You loved it. I pulled your police file. The psych report says you have an exceptionally ordered mind. That's why you make a good detective. You see the detail as well as the bigger picture. That's what makes a great research scientist.'

'You pulled my file? Why? How?'

'That doesn't matter Ken. What matters is that I'm giving you the opportunity to get it all back. Being a cop is a waste of your talents. Being tied down to a New Yorker who wouldn't know a virus from an elephant doesn't help. Trust me, you should be back in research. Your father would be so proud.'

Hutch's nerves snapped. 'Don't bring my Dad into this. I have everything I want right here. I have a life and it don't include research and grants and number crunchin'. Ryan don't you get it? The minute the cops arrested me ten years ago, any love I had for medicine went out the window. I realised then that I wasn't doin' research to help people. I was doin' it for the money, plain and simple. And that wasn't good enough.'

'That's nothin' to be ashamed about buddy.'

'Yeah! Yeah it is Ryan. What did you think the Hippocratic Oath was all about huh? First do no harm. That's the essence of bein' a doctor and what did we do? We got some poor guy killed because you couldn't wait to make the big bucks. That's not what I wanted. At least now I can genuinely help.'

'Oh yeah, sure. Kenny, the big boy scout. Fine, so you changed your mind about medicine. Give me a chance to change it back, huh?'

Hutch shook his head. 'I almost took the rap for you _buddy_. Where were you when I was in the cells huh? Where were you when they were questionin' me? I don't recall you stickin' your hand in the air and sayin' "oh, Mr Policeman, it was me all along. Ken had nothin' to do with this". Change my mind? You gotta be kiddin' me. It'd take a miracle to change my mind.'

'A miracle, yeah. Or a person. Someone close to you? Maybe Starsky?' Ryan said quietly.

'Don't do this Ryan. Don't bring Starsky into this. He has no idea what this is all about.'

'But he will do soon enough.'

Hutch lunged at the balding man as Ryan took a step backwards. Immediately Mr Martin was at Hutch's back, grabbing the blond's arms and pinning them behind him as Hutch struggled. 'You leave my partner out of this. I won't play your warped little games Ryan. This ended for me 10 years ago. You get the fuck away from me and my partner before I arrest ya on the spot.'

'You wouldn't do that Ken. You will help me, I know you will.'

'Over my dead body.'

Ryan sighed. 'What about over Starsky's?'

Hutch struggled all the harder to free himself from Martin's iron grip. 'If you've harmed him...'

'He's fine. For now. A little tattered around the edges, but he's ok.'

'Then let me see him. Now.'

'Ok, ok. Not a problem.' Ryan pushed a small button on the wall and the set of shutters that lined it opened slowly to reveal a whole wall of glass windows looking down into another room below. The room was small, clinical and had a kind of operating table at the centre – the sort that was narrow, sectioned and made of cold black metal. Ryan made a swift, quiet phone call and a moment later, as Hutch watched, sickened, the door to the small room opened and through it came two guards escorting a familiar figure.

Starsky walked between the two men, his body loose, but ready for any opportunity to escape. He had been forced to strip and had been given a pair of dark blue scrub pants to wear. There was a bruise on his upper arm, another across his chest and the cut on the side of his head stood out, red and angry. As Hutch watched, the brunet closed his eyes as though in pain and clutched at the side of his head for a moment. Coupled with the pronounced limp from the gunshot wound on his upper leg, Starsky did indeed look "tattered around the edges" and Hutch rounded on Ryan.

'You said he was fine. What's this all about Ryan? What the fuck does your sick little mind have planned now? Kidnap is a federal offence. Let him go. He has nothing to do with this, nothin' at all. Fine, you want me to help? I'll look over your material. Just let him go huh?'

Ryan shook his head. 'And the minute he walks, you tear my work to shreds and refuse to co-operate. You forget I read your file. There was one paragraph that really stuck in my mind. Something about... yeah that's it. I quote. "Sergeant Hutchinson is a classic BK personality. He has formed a strong attachment to his partner Sergeant David Starsky and it is the author's belief that this will both strengthen Hutchinson's methods and also provide a weakness should the opportunity arise." I think that's how it went. As I recall, there have been a couple of times when you've had to use your best work whilst Starsky has been in danger. There was that time Starsky was injected with a poison. That must have been rough on you – watching your best buddy dying in front of your eyes, minute by minute...and then there was the time he was shot in the back. The report on him said he'd lost almost half his body volume of blood. We both know what that means, don't we Ken? He was dying and there wasn't a damned thing you could do to stop it. What was it like? Watching him sick and weak and knowing only you could help him? That must have driven you on...made you feel you could do anything to save him. Both times, it appears, you did your best work, according to the reports.'

Hutch tore his attention from the room below. 'And your point?' he asked quietly.

'The point is, buddy, I'm so close to a marketable product that I need a man with focus to complete my work for me. Someone who can do their best work under pressure. Someone who has a motive to succeed.'

'No' Hutch shook his head in disbelief. 'You don't want to do this Ryan. I'll help, I promise, but you let my partner go, right now.' Hutch looked pleadingly at his old friend turned tormentor.

Ryan looked down into the room below. The two guards with Starsky had guns drawn and were indicating that the brunet should lie down on the table. The balding man looked back at Hutch.

'I don't think so' he said with a smile.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Starsky sat with his back to the cold wall, trying to ignore the ache in his shoulders. Hands and fingers had long ago lost feeling but the brunet snorted to himself – at least the aches took his mind away from the throb in his head and leg. The blood from the freshly opened gunshot wound had soaked through his jeans leaving them crusted and stiff and more uncomfortable by the moment. Silently Starsky shuffled, trying to get himself more comfortable and flinched as the door to the small room opened. Two large men dressed in the ubiquitous green scrubs stood in the doorway, holsters showing plainly that they were armed.

'I didn't ask for room service' the brunet growled.

The two guards approached. They were obviously professional as neither of them rose to the bait and made comment. Instead, as one drew his gun and pointed it silently at Starsky, the other took a small silver key from his pocket and unlocked the cuffs from the wall above Starsky's head. The brunet stifled a groan as his arms fell to his sides and the ache in his shoulders exploded into a sharp burning in his hands and fingers.

The man at his side bent and hauled Starsky to his feet, quickly joining the cuffs again behind the cop's back whilst Starsky leaned against the wall, balanced on his one good leg. The guard spun him around and indicated that he should head out of the room.

'Gee, you two have the most dynamic chat up lines' Starsky muttered as he limped towards the door. 'I bet ya get all the chicks huh? Will ya shudup, I can't get a word in edgeways.'

In answer the second guard stuck the muzzle of the gun into the brunet's ribs and pushed. Starsky grunted but followed as the first guard set off down the hallway.

On the short walk, Starsky counted the number of doors he passed, trying to understand the geography of the building. He'd been unconscious when he'd been brought in and had spent his stay so far in that one small room. Come to think of it, he didn't even know how long his "stay" had been so far but it was important for him to get his bearings should there be a chance of escape.

The doors passed to left and right. The hallway was long and painted a cool, dove grey with deep blue carpet on the floor. Starsky's bare feet sank into the soft pile and silenced the footfalls of the three men as they turned the corner at the end and stopped in front of another closed door. Guard #1 opened it and stood to one side as Starsky started to walk in. It was a small, plain room with another door on the opposite wall. Painted white and with a white tile floor, the anteroom had no features to speak of and no tell tale signs to tell Starsky what it was used for. The absence of colour and furniture set the brunet's nerves on edge and he mentally shook himself. Fear was the mind killer, he knew, and Starsky was not about to give up – not yet.

The gun in the small of his back urged him forwards and the door closed at the back of him. The three men stood in the small space and Starsky looked from one to the other.

'Strip' Guard #2 snapped as he stood back, his gun still pointing at Starsky.

'Never on a first date' the brunet replied, playing for time. He had no idea what was going on and had no intention of finding out. The more time he could waste on making life difficult for the two guards without getting himself hurt in the process the more chance Hutch may have to find him.

The big man with the gun gave Starsky a blank face. He flicked the gun casually. 'Strip, or we'll do it for ya.'

'And then what?'

The guard nodded at a small bundle on a counter against the wall. 'Put them on.'

'Um...problem guys. Difficult to do anythin' with the cuffs on' the brunet muttered.

Without any emotion playing over the guard's face, a key was once more produced and guard #2 unlocked the cuffs, standing back as Starsky rubbed at his sore wrists.

'Strip.' The command came again, a little impatience showing in the gruff voice.

'I heard ya the first time' Starsky snapped. Kidnap he could handle. Being trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey was par for the course, but being naked...that took the experience into a whole new ball game. Naked, Starsky felt – and was – defenceless. Funny what clothes will do to the psyche. Even a light covering will make a man feel protected somehow. Without clothes, mental shields came tumbling down and a prisoner was reduced to the status of a lab rat.

Starsky eyed the gun, it's single, unblinking, deadly eye staring back at him. He sighed and started to pull his tee shirt off over his head. The guards stood back, watching the process but again they were cool – professional. There was no comment, no overt looks as the brunet took off his jeans. They were simply there to stop Starsky from escaping, and they were effective at their job.

Starsky hissed as he pulled the denim away from the dried blood on his leg. The sodden dressing came away with the jeans and the wound started to bleed afresh. The brunet limped over to the pile of material in the corner and started to pull on the navy blue scrub pants. There was no matching top. Bruises showed across his upper body, dark blue against his olive toned skin and there was a flutter of movement on his left upper chest, showing just how hard his heart was pounding.

As soon as the cop was dressed, the guards opened the second door revealing a hospital room of sorts. The sight and the smell reminded Starsky not so much of a normal room as an operating room. It was painted the ubiquitous white with harsh lights beaming down from a recessed bulb in the ceiling. At the centre stood a narrow metal table and it was towards his device that the guards now signalled the brunet.

Starsky stood just inside the door. High up on the wall facing the table was a line of mirrors, smoky and black. They reminded the brunet of the mirrors used at the Metro in the identification suites where a witness could look into the room, but a suspect couldn't see out. What was behind the mirror? More importantly, who was behind the mirror? Also set into the ceiling, Starsky saw microphones and suddenly his heart rate soared.

'Onto the table' the guard grunted.

'I don't think so.' Starsky started to back out of the room but a strong hand on his arm stopped him.

'Look man, don't make it hard on yourself. Just get up on the table huh?'

'What if I don't?' Starsky considered his options. Fight and risk getting himself more injuries, thereby reducing his chances of escape, or comply with the guard's orders and find himself god knows where. The brunet was pretty sure he wasn't gonna remain free to roam the room. Between a rock and a hard place. Some choice!

The guard snickered. 'You want another hole to match the one on your leg?' the gun flicked towards the table and left Starsky in no doubt that the two men meant business.

With a sigh and a sinking heart the brunet walked towards the cold metal table. As the two men approached him, Starsky made his decision. There was no way he was going to go down without a fight. Lightening quick, he whirled and got in one punch on guard #2's nose. The man went down in a cascade of blood, his smashed nose making his eyes tear but immediately guard #1 was at Starsky's back. The brunet felt rather than saw the butt of the gun connect with the back of his neck. The blow was hard enough to send he brunet reeling, but not hard enough that he lost consciousness – again, the mark of a professional. Starsky staggered against the table and a strong arm kept him there. Guard #1 hauled him around whilst Starsky was still fighting the nausea and threw him onto the table. Starsky perched on the edge dealing with the new pains in his head. His skin crawled at the cold seeping up from the black metal and as the guard forced him down and he lay down on his back he could already feel the warmth leaching out of his body. Starsky stifled a shudder. What was happening? And why? What the fuck was this all about?

With their victim on the table, the two guards busied themselves. The table came equipped with medical restraints and projections from the upper centre of the table, at shoulder height. Busily, the two big men secured the straps around Starsky's ankles, waist and then they pulled his arms out to the sides and fastened his wrists to the two projections. None of the straps had any play in them and despite the soft leather, they bit into the brunet's flesh sharply. Starsky lay bound and offered up like a cross, waiting for the next step, whilst his heart hammered in his chest and his head thundered with pain.

Where the hell was Hutch?

Silently the two guards left the room leaving he bound cop alone and vulnerable. Starsky had the distinct impression that behind those smoky windows above him someone was looking down at him, enjoying the view.

_Fine. Screw you. When I get outta this I'm gonna bust the lot of ya to hell and back._

The internal pep talk made Starsky feel stronger but did nothing to stop the anxiety flooding his being. He was alone and he was strapped to an operating table. How much worse could things get? Would Hutch know where to look for him? Did the blond even know that he was missing? How long had Starsky been there? All good questions and all without answers. Not good. Definitely not good. With an air of futility he pulled at the bonds securing him to the table, testing his strength against theirs. All were tight and left no play in the sheepskin lined leather. With the straps around ankles, chest and arms Starsky had nowhere to go and he sighed and stopped his struggles. No use in using up his energy that way. He needed to conserve as much of it as he could for any chance at escape.

Starsky lay and stared at the blank white ceiling, trying to calm his beating heart. If he could remain calm, then maybe, just maybe he could talk his way out of this mess, or at least find some way to fight back. Maybe he could...

There was a small sound outside the room and Starsky flinched, bracing himself. He turned his head and watched as the door swung open and a familiar figure walked through. Starsky expression hardened and he turned back to staring at the ceiling, feeling absurdly uncomfortable as Tania lay down the silver tray she'd been carrying and came to stand by the bed.

'I'm sorry Dave' she said as she smoothed the curls back from his forehead.

Starsky glared at her and snickered. 'I always wondered what those freaks enjoyed about bein' tied up by their lovers. This don't make me understand it any better.'

Tania laid a finger against Starsky's lips. 'Shh. Don't. Don't make this any harder than it is.'

'What? Make what harder? Getting that fuckin' goon to kidnap me, knock me out? Why shouldn't I mention it in passin'?'

'I feel... I don't want to talk about it. Dave, you don't understand.'

Starsky snorted. 'Let me up an' we can talk about it. Explain it to me Tania, coz right now I don't have many other places to be.'

'I can't. Just shudup huh? Don't talk. Don't make this harder than it is.' The woman turned away and started to uncover the silver tray she'd been carrying. It contained a tourniquet, needle and a syringe and a vial of dark blue liquid, a pair of latex gloves and a swab of cotton wool. Starsky eyed the equipment with mounting fear.

'Tania, what the fuck? What're ya doin' honey? Tan, don't do this. Don't do anythin' you'll regret later huh?'

Silently Tania fixed the needle to the syringe and plunged the sharpened end into the vial of liquid, drawing a measured dose up into the barrel of the syringe. Deftly she tapped the air bubbles from the barrel and expelled a tiny amount of liquid from the needle. Then she put on the gloves and took up the swab and tourniquet.

Starsky started to struggle. He hated needles, but he hated what they carried more than anything else. Visions of his partner collapsed in an alley, his hair dirty and his eyes wild tormented Starsky and had done for months. Hutch had been forced into addiction and the aftermath had been horrific. It was the stuff of nightmares as the blond cop had been reduced to pleading and fighting with Starsky for another fix. And all the time Starsky's hatred of the deep dark brown liquid had grown.

This drug was blue, not brown. But it came pre-loaded in a syringe and that was enough to send Starsky's heart rate through the roof. The brunet started pulling madly at the bonds around his wrists, struggling against the tight strap across his chest. Sweat glistened over the cop's face and beaded in silver droplets on the brown fur of his chest.

Tania perched on the edge of the table and tied the tourniquet around Starsky's left upper arm, swabbing an area at the inner crook of his elbow.

'Tan, don't do this. Think about what you're doin' honey. This is me, Davey. You don't want to do this. Listen to me.'

Tania looked up briefly. 'I can't stop this now we've started it. Just lie back and relax and maybe it won't be so bad' Tania said, picking up the syringe.

Starsky struggled all the harder. The woman wasn't listening to him and terror spread throughout his body. The needle came closer and the dam burst inside Starsky's head.

'What the fuck is that stuff? What is it? No, don't give me that, please Tan. Think about what you're doin' Don't do his to me. Taniaaaaa.'

The needle entered Starsky's vein and the brunet went wild, bucking against the restraints and writhing on the table. The needle went wild and bounced out of the brunet's arm and Tania cursed, deaf to her ex lover's yells. She found another vein and this time sank the needle all the way in, depressing the plunger part way before withdrawing the needle and swabbing the tiny bead of crimson blood at the puncture site.

Starsky stared at her, panting hard. 'Why?' he asked.

'Because we needed you. Now rest. I'll be back later to check up on you. And there's someone else who may pop in to see you. Rest Dave. Everything's going to be ok.'

'Ok? How the hell can his be k? What did you give me? Tania? Honey? I thought we had sumthin. Sumthin good. What the fuck was in that syringe? And why me? Explain it to me huh? Tan?'

Tania got up and kissed Starsky lightly on the forehead. 'You'll understand soon enough. Just try to sleep huh? It'll start to take effect pretty soon, but I'll be watching over you.'

No answers here then. The brunet closed his eyes until he heard the door to the small room close, not trusting himself to look at Tania and disgusted at himself for pleading with the woman. So the great Starsky pep talk hadn't worked. And what did she mean by someone coming to see him? Who? And what would they want?

_All good questions Starsk, and not one bloody answer._

The brunet took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Only then did he start to think about what was happening to his body.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

Hutch watched in sick fascination as Starsky whirled and punched one of the guards square in the nose. Despite the bruises and cuts, at least his partner still had some fight left in him. But it wasn't enough and the second man – the man with the gun pointed squarely at Starsky's head – stood back and calmly forced the brunet down onto the table. As both antagonists started to secure the straps around Starsky's body Hutch struggled all the harder against the man pinning his arms behind his back.

'Ryan I'm givin' you one last chance. Don't do this. Don't do somethin' you'll regret. Didn't 9 years in that jail teach you anythin'? There's ways you can still finish your work. I'll help. Hell, I'll do the damned stuff for ya. Just don't do this. Not to me...not to him.'

Ryan shook his head. 'The time for deals is over Ken. You've changed. I can see now that the fire has gone out of your eyes. We used to be good together but now? Now I think you'd do anything for the man in that room. Anything at all rather than watch him go through what De La Vigo did.'

'You bastard! You let him go now or else...' Hutch's voice silenced as he looked down into the room as the door opened and a woman walked in. The blond looked questioningly at Ryan.

'What the fuck?'

'I see you recognise the doctor. Another one of us that's motivated by money.'

'And all the time she was dating Starsky...?'

Ryan nodded 'She's been my girl since I met her in jail. She was the prison doctor for a while. At first I thought I was just coming down with a severe case of Stockholm Syndrome, but as the weeks and months progressed, Tania and I became lovers. When I was released we'd already talked about our plans. I wanted to finish my work, but neither she nor I could do it alone. We needed you and we needed a reason for you to finish your work. There was an opening at BCPD and Tania walked into the job and into Starsky's life. She got some great intel. on the both of you. It helped a lot.'

Hutch could hardly believe what he was hearing. His body shook from shock and indignation and from the tension building up in his muscles. Despite wanting to tear Tania limb from limb he couldn't tear his eyes away from the scene unfolding in the room below. Tania had a tray with her and Hutch had a sick feeling her knew what was on it.

Ryan flicked another switch on the wall. 'I always hated silent movies. Let's put some sound to the picture huh?'

There was a crackle and then Starsky's voice came over the microphone from the speakers set up in the room.

'Tan, don't do this. Think about what you're doin' honey. This is me, Davey. You don't want to do this. Listen to me.'

The voice was low and steady, achingly familiar and Hutch once again struggled all the harder against the guard.

'Don't you just love that edge of strain in a voice that knows something bad is going to happen?' Ryan asked conversationally.

'Stop her. Stop her now you mad bastard. Ryan, please, don't do this' Hutch said softly.

Ryan closed his eyes as though savouring a favourite taste. 'There it goes again. That same edge of tension and pain. God it tastes good.' The balding man opened his eyes and glared at Hutch. 'You had your chance Ken. You had a chance to be a willing participant in this, but like always, you blew it. It's too late for reasoning and pleading now. From now on buddy, you're working on borrowed time.'

Hutch looked back down into the room and saw the needle, the puncture wound in Starsky's arm and heard that one anguished word.  
'Why?'

The blond sagged back against the body of the guard at his back, knowing it was too late. He was silent for a moment, getting his emotions and his voice under control. Finally he fixed Ryan with a piercing glare from ice cold crystal blue eyes.

'I want to talk to my partner. Right now.'

Ryan smiled and nodded. 'I was counting on it. Mr Martin? If you would?'

As Ryan pointed Hutch's own Colt at the cop, the guard at the blond's back let go of Hutch's arms and went to a drawer in one of the desks in the lab. Hutch glared at his old friend, trying to assimilate what had just happened to Starsky.

_Massive trauma to the frontal lobe... high fever... _The litany of symptoms De La Vigo had suffered ran through Hutch's head like a sick chant and the blond almost missed the metallic jingle as the guard approached him again.

Hutch turned and saw a length of chain attached to ankle and wrist cuffs in Martin's hand. They were the sort used by jails to secure prisoners as they were moved between locations – the sort that fastened around the waist and attached wrists and ankles so that the wearer could do nothing more than shuffle along, their hands secured behind them. Hutch flicked a look at Ryan.

The balding man shrugged. 'One thing I did learn in jail. Never mess with a prisoner coz for some reason they always want to escape. Not that I think for one minute you'd leave Starsky here, but if I let you in to talk to him and you aren't restrained, who knows what crazy thing you might try?'

As Ryan was talking, Martin was already securing the belt around Hutch's waist. It was useless for the blond to struggle as Martin pulled the cop's hands behind his back and locked them there. A moment later, with his ankles also secured together by a 12 inch length of chain, Hutch was ready to go.

'You really did have this all planned out didn't ya?' Hutch asked.

'What else am I supposed to do in a stinkin' jail cell for nine long years? You didn't think I'd give up on the dream did ya?'

Hutch shook his head. 'Always the entrepreneur. Always the madman huh? Don't you ever count the cost in human life?'

Ryan made no comment. Instead, he flicked the Colt at the door and the three men made their way out of the lab and into an elevator opposite. There was silence in the confined space. The elevator hummed as Hutch felt the car descend slowly and then with a quiet whoosh the doors opened once again revealing another blue carpeted hallway. Martin pushed the barrel of the gun into Hutch's ribs and the three men started out along the corridor in front of them. The pace was slow to accommodate the hobbles around Hutch's ankles and as they started up the hallway, a door on the right opened and Tania walked out. She stopped as she saw Hutch, caught like a rabbit in the headlights of a car and with a roar of rage, the blond cop lunged at her. Despite having his wrists shackled behind his back, Hutch pinned Tania's body to the wall with his shoulder leaning into her with all his weight.

'You bitch! What the fuck have you done to him? After all you said, after all the time you spent with him. Didn't it mean anythin'?'

Tania pushed at Hutch's chest as Martin and Ryan hauled the angry cop away from her. She looked up into the angry crystal blue eyes but said nothing.

'You made love to him and it was just a means to an end huh?' Hutch yelled.

'I never meant for it to go as far as it did.'

'Oh that's rich! You were just gonna date him so that you could fill his veins with Choryzine huh? Just so that you and Ryan could... No! Thats it aint it? You never did love him. You never even liked him. All this was a master plan to get at me?'

'Dave was...'

'Tania, go get on with your work huh?' Ryan interrupted the woman and flicked a look at the woman that left Tania in no doubt that explanations weren't needed.

The woman opened her mouth as though to answer back, thought better of it and pushed herself against the wall as she passed by Hutch, giving herself as much room as possible between her body and Hutch's. The cop watched her go wishing he could put his hands around her neck and strangle that look from her face. The iron grip of Martin's hands around his arms was the only thing that kept Hutch from trying to get at her and it was with difficulty that the blond pulled his attention back to the present.

The three men walked a little further up the hallway and stopped outside a door marked "Medical lab". The door swung open to reveal a small, white painted ante room and as Hutch was pushed inside, Ryan opened the second door through which Hutch could see Starsky on the table in the middle of the observation room. Ignoring the two armed man, Hutch shuffled forwards and stood just inside the doorway.

Even from that distance, he blond cop could see the shudders running through his partner's body and could also see the bloom of angry red across Starsky's cheeks and forehead. Even in that short time since he'd had he shot, the drug Choryzine had started it's insidious work.

Hutch approached the table, aware that Martin and Ryan were standing by the door. As he moved forwards, Starsky rolled his head on the table so that he could see who had walked in.

'Hutch?' The one word held so much emotion – hope, relief... and fear.

Hutch shuffled closer and perched himself on the edge of the table. 'Hey buddy, how're ya doin'?'

'T'riffic. What's goin' down huh? What's with this long lost buddy of yours?' the familiar voice was rasping, husky.

'He's no friend of mine Starsk, an' I'm sorry you're involved in this.'

Starsky squeezed his eyes tight closed as another shudder wracked his body. 'And what exactly is _this_?'

Hutch stared at the ground, unsure how to start. 'Starsk there are some things that I never told ya. Stuff that happened a long time ago... that made me come west to California.'

'You told me you had a change of career plans and you needed a break.'

'Well yeah, that part's true, but there was another reason behind the change of direction. Somethin' I never told anyone here.'

Starsky closed his eyes. He felt worse by the second, as though he was coming down with the most severe case of flu he'd ever known. His body and especially his joints ached, his head felt ready to explode and the bright lights on the ceiling above him stabbed at his eyes like daggers. A raw, hacking cough made him lose his breath for a moment until he could control it. 'Seems like now's a good time.'

'I um. Well me and Ryan were at medical school together. We were tight – almost as ight as me and you. And we were good at research. We um... we had free use of the lab at medical school and we were well on the way to finding a cure for the common cold. It would have made us a fortune but...'

'I don't like "buts" buddy. They're usually bad news.'

'This one's a doozy. The stuff was there but we just needed final tests. The animals we'd tested on had all um... well, they didn't make it and we needed more work, but Ryan took the experiment a stage further and... Shit! The guy died Starsk and the cops were involved. It was a murder enquiry and for a while I was chief suspect. There was a trial, months of questioning and... When it was all over Ryan got 9 years and I took off.

'And this involves me how?' Starsky asked quietly.

'I didn't see Ryan for 10 years. Hadn't even thought about him till a few nights ago at The Pits. After you went home we got to talkin'. He said he was working on the Choryzine again and he wanted me to help him. It's not a cure for colds any more buddy. He's marketin' it as germ warfare, sellin' to the highest bidder and he needed me to help him come up with the antidote. I refused.'

'And? I don't like where...'Starsky was stopped by a bout of coughing that left him breathless. 'this is goin'. Tell me he didn't...'

'I got a message tellin' me that he had you. That you were helping him with his research and that I should come help.'

The brunet closed his eyes. 'Tania's here.'

'I know buddy. They met when she worked at Folsom and Ryan was an inmate. She's been in on this all along.'

'And the stuff she injected me with?'

'Choryzine. Ryan thinks this'll make me formulate a serum all the quicker.'

'So do I buddy' Starsky fixed Hutch with dulled indigo eyes. 'How's this gonna go down huh? You said a guy died? What's happening to me?'

Hutch looked away. He knew Starsky would want the truth, but goddammit the truth was as bad as it could get. The blond let out a breath.

'It's gonna be bad Starsk, real bad.'

'Just tell me huh? You know how I hate it when ya keep surprises from me.'

Hutch shook his head, trying to find the words. 'First there will be the symptoms of flu. You've already got the start of the fever and cough. You're gonna ache and your fever will increase. Eventually as it peaks you're gonna start hallucinating. You'll become disorientated. The drug works on the frontal lobe, so you'll experience anger, fear. You may have delusions. Your strongest memories will become reality... you want me to go on?'

Starsky rolled his head. 'I get the picture. Thanks. So what? Can you do this? Can you make a serum? You're a cop, not a doctor.'

'I know buddy, I know. But whatever happens, remember I'm workin' on it. There may come a time when you're...' Hutch's voice broke and he looked away, trying hard not to think about what had happened to De La Vigo.

'Hey, Hutch. Just go huh? Go and get workin'. Looks like neither of us are goin' anywhere for a while. Just cook up the good stuff, huh?' Starsky's voice held the first hints of pain and he too looked away knowing Hutch had enough pressure heaped on him without seeing how much Starsky was starting to hurt.

Hutch got up and glared at Ryan. He shuffled towards the door and stopped. 'He needs a proper bed. Sheets, blankets...a pillow. It's the least you can do.'

The balding man nodded. 'I'll show you back to the lab.'

As Hutch got to the open door he looked back. Starsky was watching him go.

'Hutch? How long did it take to other guy to... ya know?'

The blond closed his eyes. 'Six days buddy.'

'Can you do this in five?' Starsky asked before another bout of coughing too his breath away.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

Hutch watched through the observation window as two men in green scrubs wheeled a full sized hospital bed into the room where Starsky was being kept. Tania followed at a safe distance and said something to the two men. They nodded and wheeled the bed over to the table on which the brunet cop lay.

'Move him onto the bed' Tania's voice sounded over the microphones. 'Carefully. He still has a lot of fight in him.'

The two men positioned the bed close to the table. Starsky watched them with dull, listless eyes – eyes that seemed not to fully comprehend what was happening and yet he knew he had an opportunity. He bunched his muscles, ready to take even the smallest chance but the odds weren't stacked in his favour and he felt weak whilst the two men were the big beefy sort. The guards unlocked the restraints from around Starsky's wrists and ankles and unbuckled the broad leather strap from across his chest. A low groan escaped the brunet as arms and legs that had been locked into one position for over 24 hours were now moved. Starsky took a breath. Unrestrained, this was his chance and he bowed his spine, ready to catapult himself off of the table and fight. The two big men however, proved once again that they were professional at their job. As one man unbuckled the last restraint, the other grabbed Starsky's wrists and pinned them above the brunet's head. The other held tight to Starsky's legs whilst they picked the brunet up and moved him over to the bed. They dumped him onto the mattress and whilst one busied himself in straightening the sheets over the cop, the other – the one holding his wrists, took out a pair of standard police issue cuffs, linked them through the bars of the bed head and snapped them around Starsky's wrists. The curly haired cop had a little more mobility, plus a pillow and covers, but once again he was restrained and going nowhere. The brunet cursed under his breath – another opportunity gone.

Tania let the guards do their work, watching dispassionately as they secured the cop once more. Once they'd done, she moved in, coming to stand by the bed. Starsky brought his knees up to his chest as another paroxysm of coughing took away his breath and left him panting and glaring at the woman.

'How're you feeling Dave?' she asked, lifting each eyelid and shining a penlight into his eyes.

Starsky took a shallow breath, hissing at the lightening daggers driving into his eyes. 'T'riffic. You got an aspirin?' the familiar voice was raw and husky with fever. 'You gonna let me up? What the fuck is this all about honey? You told me you loved me. This is a creative way of showin' it.'

The woman shook her head. 'Don't talk too much. You'll start coughing again. Give it another day or so and that'll subside.'

'Yeah? About the time I start to croak? Hutch told me what's gonna go down. Can you do this? To me? Can you really see it through?' Starsky's voice was low, his eyes never leaving Tania as he fixed her with a piercing indigo glare.

Tania tore her gaze away. She placed her stethoscope on the brunet's chest and listened carefully. She counted his pulse and took his temperature and made notes on a sheet of paper. Apparently satisfied with what she heard and saw, Tania took a syringe from the table by the bed and looked at the measured dose.

Starsky too saw he syringe and swallowed painfully. 'It aint too late honey. You don't need to do this. Tania...don't gimme that...Tan?'

Ignoring the plea, Tania injected the contents of the syringe into the port of the IV in Starsky's hand, put the cap back on the needle and turned to go.

'It'll stop hurting soon Dave. Don't fight it, just let it happen huh? Hutch'll come up with the antidote in time. I'm sure of it.' Without a backwards glance Tania walked out of the room leaving the brunet cop alone with his thoughts and his fever driven dreams.

It had been almost 24 hours since Hutch had come to the clinic and since Tania had given the first injection to Starsky. During that 24 hours Starsky had become feverish, his temperature spiking at times to almost 103. An angry red flush coloured the brunet's cheeks and forehead and the hacking, dry cough took his breath away. The shudders that had started the day before to wrack Starsky's body now settled into violent shivering interspersed with periods of such stillness that Hutch had to squint at the monitors by Starsky's side to make sure his partner was still alive.

Ryan had escorted Hutch back upstairs to the lab after his visit with Starsky and had locked the lab door behind him, removing Hutch's manacles so that the blond cop stood rubbing his wrists and watching his ex friend suspiciously. Ryan had quietly gone about his business and from a locked filing cabinet had brought out a pile of buff coloured files stuffed with papers. He had placed them on the bench beside Hutch and stood back.

'Our files. Everything we worked on. It's all there buddy and more besides. It just needs your magic to put it all together and cook up the good stuff.'

'That's it? No thought for what you've just done to an innocent man?' Hutch had snapped.

'He's, shall we say, a victim of circumstance.'

'He's my partner and he had nothing to do with his until that bitch stuck her needle into him.'

Ryan had smiled that slow, infuriating smile. 'Well now you get to save him. That's what friends are for huh? Anything you need, just ask.'

'I need Starsky set free.'

'Uh uh. Not gonna happen. You ought to know better than to ask. But anythin' else?'

Hutch had stopped for a moment. 'They're gonna come looking for us, you know that. Two cops go missin' and the whole of the BCPD is on alert.'

Ryan had grinned. 'Which is why you're gonna make a call to your Captain. Dobin? Bobbin? What's his name?'

'Dobey. And what makes you think I'm not gonna tell him exactly where we are?'

'Because Ken, I can just as easily give Dave a double dose of Choryzine and shorten your working time. The choice is yours and the phone is there.'

Hutch took another look through the window at Starsky in the room below. The fact that the blond could see his partner was at once a comfort and a drain on the blond man's nerves. Every cough, every moan of discomfort that Starsky made was amplified by the microphones and lanced directly into Hutch's heart. Could he play fast and loose with his buddy's life? The answer was no and reluctantly Hutch took the phone and dialled Dobey's private line. The ring tone sounded a couple of times and then the familiar gruff voice sounded down the line.

'Dobey.'

'Cap'n? It's...'

'Where the hell have you been? You and Starsky were rostered on the night shift last night.'

The blond listened to the black man's complaints without taking the words in. Hutch was trying to formulate how to give Dobey a clue as to what had happened without alerting Ryan. He cleared his throat.

'Sorry Sir. Good morning.'

The use of that one word stopped Dobey dead in his tracks. Neither Hutch nor Starsky had ever called him Sir and Dobey would never have encouraged it. Suddenly the Captain stopped yelling and listened.

'Are you ok?' Dobey asked.

Hutch detected the change in the big man's voice and thanked the lord that Dobey was so attuned to his men. 'I um... we've got the flu.'

'Is Starsky with you?' Dobey asked carefully.

'Yeah. He's taken it worse than me. It's the um...Carter strain that Kowalski was talking about.'

'Carter?... Kowalski?'

'Uh huh, the one he said was all over the news.'

So you won't be back today?'

Hutch shook his head. 'No, it's gonna be at least a week, unless a miracle happens. Tell Kowalski that he shouldn't _court_ disaster by believing everything he reads in the newspapers. Gotta go Cap'n. Starsky needs his meds.' The blond put the phone down hoping he'd done enough.

'Who's Kowalski?' Ryan asked

'Just a friend. It's a joke. He's a hypochondriac. Thinks he's dyin' every day. Give a cold a fancy name and...well.'

Ryan gave the cop a hard look, took the phone from Hutch, disconnected it at the wall and tucked the receiver under his arm. 'You have an hour to review the notes. After that, I expect some progress.

Back in the precinct down town Dobey stared at the phone in his own hand and quickly wrote down everything he could remember of the conversation. He stared hard at the words on the page, punched buttons on the phone and waited.

'Records? Is that Kowalski?'

'Yeah. Captain Dobey, what can I do for you?' The woman's voice sounded a little out of breath.

'I'm comin' down to see you. Can you pull Sergeant Hutchinson's personal file. We have a job to do.'

Dobey got up from his desk and made the long walk down to records. He had no idea what Hutch had been talking about, but the only Kowalski he knew was Nadia Kowalski, Sergeant in charge of records for the 9th precinct – someone Hutch barely knew.

Dobey pushed open the door and walked into the quiet, paper lined office. A tall, willowy brunet wearing a black uniform greeted him.

'This is an honour! What can I do for you?' Kowalski asked.

'You got Hutch's file?'

'Uh huh.'

'I think he and Starsky are in trouble. I just had this conversation with him and I need your help to decipher it. Dobey laid the paper down on the table whilst Nadia read the scribbled handwriting.

There's no flu outbreak of a strain called Carter. Not unless Hutch read different papers to me' she muttered.

'He emphasised your name, a flu virus called Carter and the word "court". If he was being made to make the call, he's tried to leave us a clue.'

'How do you know it wasn't just him and Starsky wangling another day off? It's a great day. They could have gone to the beach or...'

The Captain shook his head. 'I'd thought of that, but it's not their style. There was something about how Hutch sounded. Like he was bein' careful about how he chose his words.'

Nadia nodded. 'Ok. I'll see what I can dig up, but there isn't a lot to go on.'

The Captain smiled. 'You'll work your magic.'

The woman snorted. 'Yeah. And if I find that they're away with their dates somewhere, someone is gonna owe me a lobster dinner. Leave it with me.'

oOoOoOoOoOo

Captain Dobey sat at his desk, his head in his hands, pouring over the notes he'd made of Hutch's phone message. His men were in trouble and for once, the Captain of the homicide division of precinct nine felt powerless to help. It was as though Simon Marcus was once more on the loose – sending insane riddles whilst the clock ticked away Starsky's life. Except this ime both his men may be in danger.

What the hell did "Carter" mean? And if both his men had flu wouldn't they have simply phoned in sick? If the new doctor, what was her name? Tandy? No, Tania. If she'd been in work he might have gone down and questioned her about a flu strain called Carter, but she had been off for a couple of days, so no help there.

With a sigh, Dobey reached for the phone and dialled his home number. The other end answered on the third ring and Dobey's nerves soothed a little at the sound of his wife's voice.

'Hey Edith, yeah, I'll be home late tonight...no, I'm fine...tell the kids hi and give Rosey a hug from her Dad huh?'

Edith Dobey's voice sounded resigned down the phone and her husband sighed. It was tough being a cop's wife, he knew.

'Love ya honey...no, I'll ring when I'm on my way...yeah, it's Starsky and Hutch...I'll tell you when I know anything. Goodnight hon. Byee.'

There was a knock on the door as Dobey put the phone down and he looked up as Sergeant Kowalski pushed her way into his office carrying a file under each arm.

'I think I hit pay dirt' she said as she sat down in front of the desk and put the files down on the corner. 'I have some answers, but I have no idea where they lead.'

The big black man wiped his hanky over his face, sat back in his chair and laid down his pen. 'Shoot.'

Kowalski looked through her documents. 'I had no idea about the word Carter until I started looking through Hutch's personal file. It wasn't immediately obvious but apparently his Mom's maiden name was Carter, which got me to wondering if this had anything to do with his youth. So next I looked at the early police career. Nothing there and of course his record has been exemplary. He's healthy... no hidden illnesses.'

'So? Can we get the shortened version?' Dobey gruffed.

Nadia Kowalski grinned. 'I dug back further into Hutch's past and came up with this' she handed Dobey an old newspaper cutting from the Duluth Tribune. Dobey took it and read the headlines.

**Dr Richard Hutchinson and society wife Nancy – son's innocence in no doubt.**

Quickly the Captain skimmed the article which explained that Kenneth Hutchinson, medical student had been the star witness in the trial of Ryan Shaw another medical student. Shaw had been found guilty and sentenced to nine years jail for the death of Daniel De La Vigo caused by experimentation with a purported new cure for flu and the common cold.

Wearily Dobey put the newspaper down. 'So Hutch was trying to tell us this has something to do with Ryan Shaw?'

Nadia nodded. 'It'd seem so. It all fits – the name, the reference to flu and he emphasis on the word "Court". But where does it lead?'

The Captain closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. 'I have no idea. I've never heard of Ryan Shaw, but you did good Sergeant. Really good. Thanks.'


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

David Starsky tossed on turned on his bed. Despite having a soft mattress and pillows, he felt as though his body was laid on a pile of rocks. His limbs were heavy and ached and his head felt ready to explode. If this was the flu then it was a doozy and although he brunet felt sick, he also knew he was reliant on Hutch to come up with the goods to save him. Starsky had always been self reliant and he hated having to wait for his blond buddy to come up with the goods to save him. It added more pressure to what Hutch must already be feeling and it left Starsky feeling like a pawn in a deadly game of chess.

As the hours progressed, Starsky descended into a dream world where reality blended seamlessly with his memories, worries and fears. He no longer knew or cared which thought was inspired by a memory or which was triggered by what was going on around him.

_Men surrounding him in a white tiled bathroom. _

_'What the fuck 're ya doin'?' Starsky yelled at the three. 'HEY, SOME HELP IN HERE' he shouted to the uniforms he thought were outside._

_Brad came around the front and smacked Starsky across the face, leaving white finger marks on the olive toned skin. The brunet's head flew sideways and Brad's ring caught him high of on the right temple. Starsky felt it begin to bleed._

_Brad grinned. 'Shuddup. Your friends are a little distracted right now. You can yell as much as you like, you aint got no help coming any time soon'._

_Starsky kicked out with his legs, trying to wrench his arms away from the two men at the side of him, but they held fast as Brad drove his fist into the taut abdomen. The brunet bent over wheezing, and another fist caught him on the side of his head, right where Brad's ring had cut him moments earlier. He grunted and wheezed trying to get breath back into his body and straightened, looking at Brad through bleary eyes._

_'What d'ya want punk?' he gasped, knowing full well by the crosses on their foreheads who they were._

_'We want you' Brad said simply._

_'Not gonna happen' Starsky replied cockily as he braced himself for the next blow. As Brad wound up, the two at the side of him let go his arms and as Brad fist connected once again with the right hand side of his head, he was knocked sideways, hitting his head on the porcelain wash basin and seeing stars._

_Starsky struggled to his knees, leaning forward and propping himself on his arms. Blood dripped in small ruby droplets down onto the white tiles and he looked at them dazedly before realising they were his own blood spots. He tried to raise his hand to his head to stem the flow of blood, but it felt heavy and disconnected. The whole right hand side of his head felt as though it was on fire, throbbing in time with the staccato beat of his heart. He groaned and the men around him laughed. Sonny bent down and picked him up roughly so that he stood between the men, swaying. The room swam and he swallowed hard. No way would he lose his breakfast in front of these suckers!_

_'Leave me 'lone' he said drunkenly, the words catching in his throat. 'Cops'll find ya. Don't do it. Fuck. Hutch'll kill ya. I'll kill ya' he panted._

_Brad took hold of a handful of curly hair and jerked Starsky's head back until the brunet could see Brad's face._

_'Si-mon dreamed your death, and that of the white knight. It doesn't matter what you threaten pig, you're gonna die regardless'._

_'Yeah, well let's get it over with then. I aint gonna go without a fight'._

_Brad chuckled. 'Looks to me like you've got no fight left in ya'._

_'Try me'._

_'Is that an invitation?' Brad grinned and as Starsky swayed between Sonny and Deek, he landed out one final time, aiming still for the right hand side of Starsky's head and the lights of the world blinked out._

Hutch looked down from the observation window of the lab. His friend writhed on the bed, muttering under his breath, an occasional yell piercing the otherwise silent room. It was obvious to the blond cop that Starsky was held in the grip of a nightmare and one word, repeated again and again told Hutch which nightmare had Starsky in its thrall.

'Simon...Marcus...Si-mon' the brunet moaned, tossing his head on the pillow. He pulled at the cuffs securing his wrists to the top of the bed and Hutch turned away, unable to witness his buddy's suffering any longer.

The blond went back to the open files on the desk. It had been ten long years since he'd done any sort of proper science. It had taken the best part of three hours for that part of his brain to kick in again – an eternity before Hutch finally got to grips once more with the equations on the page. Now he poured over the pages, trying to remember where he'd got to and what the next step was. With a sigh of frustration he blond pinched the bridge of his nose and scrubbed his hands through his tousled bangs.

The door opened and Ryan came in, walking over to the desk. 'Well?'

'Well what?' Hutch snapped.

'Progress?'

'This is so far beyond me I can't believe I ever did this stuff. It's takin' me for ever just to get my mind in gear again. I need help. Look, there's a woman I know. She's good, probably the best at this sort of stuff. She works for the CDC. Let me phone her, huh?'

Ryan shook his head. 'Nice try Ken, but no deal. You can do this, I know you can. Look, these base pairs...you were working on them. Think about the pairings huh?'

Hutch slammed his hand on the desk and pushed himself away. He stood by the window and looked down at Starsky in the room below. 'It doesn't work that way! For pity's sake man, let me get some help. Dr Judith Kaufman. Look her up. She's brilliant. She can help me...us. I can't so this on my own.'

Ryan walked over to join Hutch at the window. 'You can. And you will. The incentive is right there. Don't look too good, does he?'

Hutch whirled and grabbed Ryan by the collar of his shirt. He snarled into his former friend's face. 'You cold hearted bastard. Is that all he is to ya? Just leverage to make me work? You can stop this. You don't need to do his any more. You've got me. I told ya I'd help. It's not too late for Starsky. With treatment he'll recover if you stop his now.' The blond man's knuckles showed white as he grasped the fabric of Ryan's shirt and Ryan could feel the tremble on Hutch's arms as the cop fought the urge to wipe he smile from Ryan's face.

'You don't want to do anything stupid Ken, now do you?'

Hutch looked down to see the muzzle of a small pistol pushed into his ribs. Slowly he let go of Ryan's shirt and slumped against the window. 'I can't do this and you're gonna kill an innocent man because of it.'

'He's a cop. He knew what he signed up for. Death before dishonour and all that shit...or is that the Marines? Whatever. He stays in that room and you stay here. By my reckoning you've got another...ooh... three and a half days before he's past help. Maybe you should quit bleatin' about me bein' unfair and actually get down to some work. I'll have some food sent in later.'

Ryan walked to the door and paused. 'Aint friendship grand huh?' he said with a grin, closed the door and locked it behind him.

oOoOoOoOoOo

Starsky descended further into his nightmare.

_The air felt cold against the brunet's damp skin and he shivered uncontrollably with the combination of cold, tiredness and lack of sleep. Starsky was almost past caring what they did with him anymore. He wanted an end to this sooner rather than later, and whilst he wanted Hutch to find him, he was also afraid that if the blond did come to his rescue, that he too would become a pawn in Marcus' sick little game._

_The two Satanists pulled their captive between them through the maze of empty cages at the old zoo, their exhibits having long since gone to better homes, leaving the old, tired barred cages to the wild rats, mice and feral cats. They pulled Starsky on up the hill and arrived at the old aviary, perched high on a rocky outcrop above the entrance to the old zoo. The enormous birdcage had long since been deserted, but the bars and the framework of the place were still intact and cemented into the bedrock providing a stable and immovable place to hang the brunet._

_Despite his best efforts to resist, it was the work only of minutes to free Starsky's hands from behind his back, re-tie them to the front and haul his arms high above his head, leaving his bare feet just touching the ground. Starsky took a moment to gather his thoughts and look around him weakly. There were seven or eight robed cult members arranged in a semi circle around him now. Ominously they all held various implements in their hands, ranging from chains and cleavers to vicious looking bats. All designed to hurt. All designed to hurt him. Gail was brought into the circle, her face even paler in the early morning light and her thin frame shivering in the cold morning air. She looked tired and scared and she refused to look Starsky in the eyes._

_As the two men at her side let her go and departed, she sunk to her knees in front of the bound man, bent almost double as her hands splayed out on the ground in front of her. The brunet looked around at the other men, up at his bound hands, silhouetted against the bright shafts of sunlight falling through the leaves of a nearby tree and then down at the girl grovelling by the bare feet. He licked his dry lips again._

_'What's going on?' he asked as he watched the girl on the ground take the same knife he'd seen her with before. She seemed to be drawing symbols with it on the hard earth at his feet, leaning first to one side, then the other before taking the knife's blade and holding it to her lips, kissing it and running her cheek tenderly against it._

_Like a cat rubbing itself against a favourite chair._

_'They're all watching' she whispered. 'Si-mon dreamed they would watch'_

_Si-mon, Si-mon, Si-mon, Si-mon_

_'You're gonna kill me' Starsky tried to shock her out of her reverie. 'Yes you are…..you're gonna kill me' he said low and as levelly as he could. But he knew this was it. This was the moment the cultists had been preparing for. They'd told him 24 hours was all he had, and this time yesterday he was showering and getting ready to go to court._

_Si-mon, Si-mon, Si-mon, Si-mon_

_'And your friends are gonna watch'_

_'No, I'm not goin' to kill you' Gail said timorously. 'Thou shalt not k kill…. shalt not….. they're all watching'. She looked at the men surrounding them. They'd set up their chant again, an insistent sound pounding at Starsky's consciousness and taking away Gail's free will._

_'Gail….'_

_Si-mon, Si-mon, Si-mon, Si-mon_

_Starsky tried harder, desperate now that the time had come. He twisted in his bonds, his arms rapidly numbing from his suspension._

_'Gail'_

_She looked scared now, gazing uncertainly about her as she clutched the knife in front of her body._

_'Only make the first stroke' she whimpered_

_'Gail…..' His voice insistent. __C'mon honey, look at me, listen to me._

'_The first of hundreds…. '_

_Si-mon, Si-mon, Si-mon, Si-mon_

_'Thousands…. '_

_Si-mon, Si-mon, Si-mon, Si-mon_

_'Millions…'_

_She took the blade and kissed it again, looking up into his face._

_'Listen to me…Gail you don't have to do this'_

_Si-mon, Si-mon, Si-mon._

_'This is Si-mon….its not you…..'_

_'Si-mon….'_

_'Please…..Gail…at's a girl, put it away…put it away' the brunet pleaded, hating the look of fear and utter confusion in the big brown eyes. He saw the indecision in her eyes and worked on it, putting everything he had into his voice and the expression on his face. If only the suckers around him would stop that infernal chanting for a minute. But instead of shutting up, as they too saw the hesitation in the girl with the blade, they redoubled their efforts, the sounds coming thick and fast now._

_Gail's face was a study of indecision, the man in front of her pleading for his life and the group members around her chanting and egging her on to draw the first blood as Si-mon had dreamed she would do. She closed her eyes, trying to blot everything out so that she could think more clearly about what she should do._

_But finally she made her decision and as Starsky watched in sick fascination she raised the bade high above her head._

_The brunet knew this was it. His final moment on earth before the rest of the group members descended on him to beat his body into final submission with their chains and bats and cleavers. He closed his eyes and waited for it, hoping that when this was all over, Gail wouldn't blame herself for his death. This wasn't the girls doing. This was just one more example of Simon Marcus' cold blooded killing spree._

_His body tensed in anticipation._

_Hutch._

_Oh God Hutch. If ya find me buddy, look away, it ain't gonna be pretty._

_The knife arced down, plunging into his chest, drawing a raw scarlet line down the centre of his body. Gail brought the knife up and sank it once again into him. Starsky gasped, the pain so great that he couldn't utter a sound. Again and again the blade sank into his flesh until his blood ran in scarlet streaks down his flanks and legs. The world disappeared into a miasma of agony. He couldn't breathe, couldn't scream...couldn't live._

Starsky's nightmare shook him awake and he lay panting, bathed in a cold sweat as he stared up at the blinding white light above him. Slowly he closed his eyes, his body still twitching from the feel of the knife on his chest. Starsky licked his dry lips and coughed. It was painful to sleep and painful to remain awake and yet with the fever raging through him, his body once more closed down and again he dreamed.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

Reality was suspended. Starsky no longer knew what was real and what was not. The brunet lost all concept of why he was on his back in a hospital room with his wrists secured above his head. Simon Marcus' ghost was just one of the phantoms that came to haunt him. Now, Crazy George Prudholm stared down at him from beside the bed. The hospital room disappeared into mist to be replaced by a cold, damp, dark...crypt?

_'Gary, are you alright son?' he asked, sitting down on the edge of the bed._

_Starsky's fever clouded mind paused a moment, processing the new development. 'What?'_

_'You look sick son. What can I get ya?' the madman said, reaching out to run his fingers through Starsky's hair._

_The cop flinched out of the way, his skin crawling at the thought of Prudholm touching him. 'Ya can get me the fuck outta here' he said weakly. 'Just lemme go' he croaked through his dry throat. 'Lemme up an' I'll be ok. We can talk'._

_'What do you want to talk about son? I shouldn't let you up, you're sick. Just lie still Gary and rest an' I'll look after you' Prudholm said almost tenderly._

_'Not Gary…..You made me sick. I can hardly move….hurts. Lemme up' Starsky continued, trying to shuffle away from the man's caresses._

_Prudholm looked confused. 'What do you mean, I made you sick? Gary, I'm your father. I'd do anything for ya, you know that. Let me look after you huh?'_

_'I'm not Gary. Your son's dead. Died in jail remember?' the brunet pushed, creeped out by the idea that Prudholm would think he was his dead son._

Prudholm faded away, leaving Starsky alone with his nightmare. He no longer knew what was worse – the loneliness, or the spectres that haunted him. He pulled hard at the cuffs securing his wrists.

_Pains, which had once assailed his back, hips and shoulders, redoubled. His wrists hurt too now and although he couldn't see them, he knew that they'd bled. He could feel the raw abraded skin beneath the harsh ropes holding him immobile. It was his own fault. Even though he'd tried them so many times before, he had to struggle just once more to see if he could get free. _

_He sighed into the darkness and the sound seemed extraordinarily loud in the confined space. During the intervening hours, he'd once again lost the unequal fight for control of his bladder and now he felt dirty and almost inhuman as he lay on the sodden mattress encased in the wet denim fabric of his jeans. He'd held out as long as he could, in the vain hope that Prudholm might come back and help him, but as the time went on, he realised he couldn't hold on any longer. As he felt the burning liquid soak his jeans again, he'd sobbed just once, into the darkness, a forlorn and empty sound which scared away the rats pattering around the dirt floor. The fever which continued to rage through his body made him feel weak and he knew if he didn't get help soon he'd become too sick to be able to reason with Prudholm any more._

_He muttered to himself_

_'__Dave Starsky. I'm Dave Starsky…..Dave…..Dave__._

_But then he stopped himself._

_You're goin' mad Davey boy. Talkin' to yourself. Shit….see. you're doin' it again!_

_He stiffened as he heard a noise again and watched as the door to the crypt was pushed open, George's figure walking into the room. Once again the brighter light stabbed at Starsky's eyes, and once again, he turned his head away from the painful stimulus._

_'Gary?' Prudholm said gently._

_'Starsky' the brunet corrected._

_'Hmm. It's me Papa. I'm gonna stop you hurting son. I said I would'._

_Starsky's heart leapt. 'Are ya gonna untie me? Are ya gonna let me up?'_

_'No son. I told ya. You need to rest. But I got your medicine. I'm gonna give ya your medicine and then everything will be fine' Prudholm said soothingly._

_'Medicine? What're ya talkin' about? I don't need no medicine. I just need to be able to get up' Starsky said, wary now at the turn of events. He had no idea what Prudholm was going to do, but he didn't like the thought of "medicine"._

_'But you always want your medicine. It makes you feel so much better' George continued as he lit a candle and placed it on one of the stone shelves. Starsky turned his head to watch, the flickering light casting ghostly shadows around the room. Now that he saw the articles Prudholm unloaded from his pockets, he started to struggle frantically against his bonds._

_'NO. ya lousy son of a bitch. I don't need no medicine. That aint medicine an' I'm no junkie. Don't gimme that. Just let me up huh? Just lemme go'._

Starsky yelled out into the hospital room. 'Nooooo.' His head tossed on the pillow and he started to pull once again at the handcuffs. This time, his wrists started to bleed for real and Tania turned from the TV monitor in her room to Ryan.

'Haven't we gone far enough?'

'Not yet. Ken has started working, but in truth I'm kinda curious to see what the outcome of this is. My other subjects have all been sick – junkies. Starsky's a strong guy. I need to know just how hard he can fight this. Call it professional interest.'

Tania turned away, sickened. The money was what she wanted. She had never been in the market for torture. Although she had set herself up to date the brunet cop as part of Ryan's master plan, she couldn't help but like him. He was cocksure, funny, sensitive when the need arose. And now he was sick.

'I'll um... I'll go and give him his next shot' she said, picking up a syringe and needle from the bench. As Ryan continued to watch the monitor she quietly let herself out of the room and walked down the corridor feeling more than a little dirty.

Back in the hospital room, Starsky continued to fight his demons. Now, perhaps the most terrifying of all was trying to take him over. Memories of his time in the army returned to haunt the cop. Memories he'd though he'd buried forever. Nightmares that he'd suffered for years after his release now came back and hit him full force so that he was no longer Sergeant Dave Starsky of the Bay City Homicide Division. He was regressed to Corporal Starsky, snipper.

'Starsky, David Michael. Corporal 231-51-3155. United States Army' he moaned as Tania walked into the room. She looked down at the scarlet cheeks and the dull, listless eyes of her one time lover and silently she plunged the needle into the port of the IV.

The brunet opened his eyes and although they held no recognition, he shook his head.

'Fuck...get away from me.' Starsky no longer saw Tania. He didn't see the hospital room or the large window above him where his blond partner stood sickened. He was back in the heat and the cloying humidity of the jungle, feeling the sheer terror of standing in front of the Vietnamese soldier.

_'David Michael Starsky. Corporal. 231-51-3155. United States Army'. He stood at attention, his eyes never wavering from a spot above the General's head._

_'Corporal, I'm a patient man, but there comes a time when I need answers. Do we have to start causing you pain? It would be so much easier if you would just tell me why you were sent here. Your American Government doesn't care about you. Do you think there is anyone in the White House who even knows that you exist? Just tell me why you're here and you can be on your way'._

_'Corporal David Michael Starsky. 231-51-3155. United Sta….'._

_The General cut him off with rapid fire commands and Starsky felt hands holding him still. His clothes were ripped from him and he was pushed down until he was sitting on a hard wooden chair._

_He felt his heart rate hike up several notches and he tried to stop his body from trembling, but the fear ate at him and he looked at the ground desperate not to let these bastards see how terrified he was._

_'Trung uý'_

_Ropes circled his wrists and ankles, lacing him to the chair and another loop was passed around his chest. He fought against the bonds with all his might, but they were strong, the rough hemp rope digging into his flesh. He yelled out as he saw the big generator brought into the room and the soldiers set about impassively attaching electrodes to his chest, his back above his kidneys and between his splayed legs to clamp on his scrotum. There was even one attached to each earlobe. He struggled again, breathless with exertion as he watched the general switch on the generator, his hand hovering over the handle._

_What would it feel like? He'd heard stories of excruciating pain, but was that right? What sort of pain would it be? He'd always been able to cope quite well when he'd broken a limb, or come off worse in a fight. Would he cope with this? His dog tags rattles against his chest betraying his shivering body._

_'Why were you sent here?'_

_'David Michael Stars….arrrgh' he screamed as the electricity coursed through his body. It took his breath away, his lungs spasming until he thought his eyeballs would fall from his head. The pain went on and on and all he could do was scream, his breath finally giving out as the General turned off the current. His body sagged against its bonds and he sucked a lungful of air in gratefully. His arms and legs continued to jerk as muscles groups fired against his will. He raised his head and grinned. He knew now what it felt like._

_'Starsky. Corporal Serial numb…' another bolt hit his body full on and he jangled in the chair, screaming more to let himself know that he was alive than to ease the pain. Again the general flipped the switch and again he sagged against his bonds, sweat trickling into his eyes and down his bare chest. He groaned, his head feeling as though it would explode._

Hitching a breath, Tania wiped a cool cloth over the brunet's forehead. He flinched, his eyelids fluttering and his body stilled for a moment.

'Traff?'

'No, it's me Tania'

Starsky shook his head. 'I didn't tell 'em nuthin. Hurts... Traff? You there?'

'Who's Traff? Dave, try and rest huh. Just lay back.' Once again she put her hand on his forehead and instantly Starsky was transported back in time to a different place and a different sensation on his head.

_'We have a new game for you' General Mai said clearly, making Starsky jump slightly._

_As the brunet soldier looked, General Mai drew a revolver from his side holster and flicked the barrel round, making a satisfying ratchet noise in the heavy afternoon air._

_The General tossed the sidearm to one of the soldiers, who took it and cocked the weapon, grinning as he held the muzzle against Starsky's head. The exhausted man looked up at Mai through bleary, dehydrated eyes and snorted softly. So, it had come to this. The end. Thank God for that! Starsky had no idea how much more of the General's treatment he could take and now, despite the hammering heartbeats in his chest, he welcomed the end, embracing the thought that despite everything that had been done to him, he had won. He hadn't told them anything and so he had played their sick game and won. He wasn't a prisoner any more. His spirit would be free because he'd endured._

_'Why are you here?' Mai asked in a bored manner._

_'Davvvvid Mmmmichael Ssst….'_

_Mai nodded and the soldier pushed the muzzle of the gun into the brunet's temple and pulled the trigger. Starsky braced himself wondering how it would feel to have his brains blown out. Would he feel it? Would he have any recollection? His body tensed at the metallic click of the trigger and…..nothing._

_His body sagged as the adrenaline flooded his veins. The chamber of the gun had been empty. Oh my God. They were playing Russian roulette with him! He let out a desperate sob, almost disappointed that the shot hadn't been fired. He was so ready to die, and this at least seemed the easier way out!_

Starsky's eyes opened wide and he stared up at Tania, seeing only General Mai rather than his ex. 'I'm gonna fuckin' kill ya' he rasped, 'Ya hear me ya yellow bastard?'


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

Tania closed the door behind her and leaned her head against it. She thought she loved Ryan. When she'd seen him in the jail he'd seemed so different from the other prisoners on the block. Ryan was a gentleman. He was strong, erudite, smart...and apparently not without money. All the things she admired in a man. So what that he was a little expansive around the waist? So what that he was balding? Tania saw the man beneath the physical imperfections and liked what she saw.

Their time together in the hospital wing of the jail had been good. Obviously the other inmates didn't see Ryan Shaw in quite the same light that Tania did. He had been the butt of their jokes for months after his initial sentence. After that Ryan had used his considerable brain power to start weaving a band of men around him who could get him the protection he needed. Through terror tactics, blackmail and good old plain violence, Ryan became top dog on the block and surrounded himself with his men and for years he enjoyed the power. Even some of the prison guards found Shaw to be a daunting man... until a new guy appeared once day – a man with an equal intellect, plus the physique to match the heavies surrounding Ryan.

If there is one thing in jail that attracts a prisoner its the feel that they can get what they want or need through a third party, be it as the boss or the goon. The new guy, Fox, bided his time and finally made a play for Ryan's position, almost beating Ryan to death in his cell. Ryan woke up after a week of being in a coma and looked up straight into the eyes of his doctor. Tania cared for Ryan during his recovery and from then on the two were inseparable, taking chance after chance to make love in secluded rooms when no-one else was around. Tania kept Ryan on the hospital wing long after he wa fit and well and right up until the day of his release and by then they had both formed their master plan, involving research, Ryan's notes, and a certain blond ex medical student turned cop.

The edge of ruthlessness that Ryan displayed had been a turn on for Tania. He was the sort of man who had a dangerous side to him, and what woman (if they are honest with themselves) doesn't want to think that they could be the one to make a bad man good? But as their plan progressed and Starsky had been made an unwilling guinea pig, Tania's greed took second place to the remorse she was now feeling. Seeing her ex love so sick and vulnerable, and hearing his nightmares made Tania fell dirty and she resolved to go back to Ryan and tell him that if he loved her, he would end this now.

The woman walked back up the hallway and into the small room she was using as an office. It was the one with the TV monitor on the wall and now she turned off the picture of the brunet as he writhed and thrashed on the bed. Sickened to her stomach, she picked up the phone and dialled Ryan's pager. The man was out and about in the clinic upstairs, dealing with the rich and famous clients who seemed to flock to him for treatment. Ryan came from the right social background. He'd been brought up around money and knew what his patients' liked. The telephone rang a couple of minutes later.

'Is there a problem?' Ryan asked.

'No I... I just need to see you' Tanis' voice sounded small and unsure and she despised herself for letting this experiment go as far as it had.

'I'm with the Senator honey. I'll be down as soon as I can.' The phone went dead and Tania sank down onto her office chair and put her head in her hands.

oOoOoOoOoOo

Upstairs, in the laboratory, Hutch scrubbed his hands over his tired, dry eyes and squinted once again at the numbers on the page. Hardy-Weinberg Equation: p2 + 2pq + q2 = 1. Derivation: Take a gene with two alleles; call them A and a. (Dominance doesn't matter for our purposes; this works equally well with co-dominance or incomplete dominance.) In a population, some members will have the AA genotype, some will have the Aa genotype, and some will have aa.

Fitness:p2wAA + 2pqwAa + q2 waa = w

p2(wAA / w)+ 2pq(wAa / w) + q2 (waa / w) = 1

Derivation: w in general means "fitness": a measurement of the relative ability

Of individuals with a certain genotype to reproduce successfully. wAA, for instance, means the relative ability of individuals with the AA genotype to reproduce successfully. w is always a number between 0 and 1. Adding ws to the Hardy-Weinberg equation allows you to predict the effect of selection on gene and allele frequencies in the next generation.

Take the Hardy-Weinberg equation and multiply each term (the frequency of each genotype) by the fitness of that genotype. Add those up and you get the mean fitness, w ("w-bar"). Divide through by w, and you get the second equation. Here, each term of the equation is multiplied by the fitness of a genotype divided by the mean fitness. If a genotype is fitter than average, this quotient is greater than 1, and that genotype will increase in frequency in the next generation. If a genotype is less fit than average, the quotient is less than 1, and that genotype will decrease in frequency in the next generation.

The blond man poured over the sheet of paper with his crooked writing on it. It was a lifetime ago that he'd written this and Hutch snorted softly to himself – he may well have been using a different brain because right now the words could have been written in fluent Outer Mongolian. Whilst he may once have understood all this crap, now, the words and symbols were no more than squiggles on the page. Sure, he knew vaguely what he'd been driving at all those years ago, but as to the finer points of genetics, Hutch had long since lost the plot, his brain now filled with law rather than medicine.

The blond man stole another look out of the observation window down into the room below. He'd turned off the microphone a while ago because the sounds of Starsky's nightmares were like an exquisite torture of their own. Hutch wanted nothing more than to break through the window and go to help his partner but this was truly a case of so near, and yet so far. The window was made f toughened glass and he door o the lab was kept locked. Hutch was a prisoner for sure, albeit one who was given good food and decent conditions. Not like the brunet who...

Fatalistically, Hutch flipped the microphone switch again.

'Yellow bastard... kill ya...kill the lot of ya... Traff... Traff'll...'

Hutch hitched a breath. Starsky's safety – hell, Starsky's life – depended on him. The pressure felt like a ton of bricks bearing down on top of the blond's head. Hutch hadn't slept in 36 hours. His eyes felt as though they were lined with sandpaper. He hadn't washed, shaved or combed his hair in all that time and he felt dirty both in body and mind. He sat down on one of the chairs in the lab. Like everything else at the clinic it was of the best quality, leather covering the soft, thick padding. Silently Hutch leaned over the equations one more time. He was tired, so damned tired that his eyes refused to keep open. Maybe just a ten minute dose and he would somehow be able to deal with the writing on he page...

oOoOoOoOoOo

_'Stand to attention in front of a superior officer' Mai yelled as the starving soldier stood outside the cage he'd been moved to. Starsky looked around him, his eyesight blurry. He'd gone for three days straight without food and with only three cups of water and now his stomach felt as though it was touching his backbone and his tongue had swollen in his mouth. His vest had been ripped from him, leaving only his green regulation boxers which were grimy and torn and after the last round of torture, he'd been taken outside the prison block and stuffed into one of the small cages he'd seen on his way in. It was no more than three feet square and he'd been unable to stretch out or straighten his legs or sit upright. There was no cover and he was at the mercy of the elements, either baking in the sun, dripping wet from the rain, or shivering in the relative cool of the night._

_He'd watched fatalistically as the soldiers had brought out a long trestle table into the middle of the compound. They set up a chair in front of it, facing him and had started to set out a feast. Bowls of fruit, a whole chicken, steaming bowls of rice and noodles, platters of fish and soft fried fritters nestled on a snowy white table cloth and General Mai had strutted out from his office and sat down at the table facing Starsky._

_Two soldiers opened Starsky's cage and dragged the pitifully thin man from its interior, standing him in front of the table as Mai poured himself a glass of red wine. He held it up in toast to the brunet who stared at it longingly. It had been seven and a half weeks since he'd been captured and during that time, the most he'd had to eat was a bowlful of steamed rice each day and a few cupfuls of tepid dirty water. Now he swayed on his feet as his stomach rumbled and cramps assailed his guts, the sight of the food both tempting and sickening._

_He staggered forward, then stopped himself as Mai yelled at him again. 'Stand to attention in front of a superior officer'. Slowly, he brought one foot next to the other and straightened his back, fixing his eyes on a point in the middle distance, just as he'd done at boot camp all those months ago. And he thought that was torture._

_The sun was at its height as he continued to stand. There was no shelter, but his body had long since stopped sweating, instead going into reflex to conserve what little energy and moisture he had left. The sun was hot on his shoulders and he felt them start to burn, his shoulder blades sticking out proud from his skin. He breathed deeply, trying to keep his concentration as Mai tore off a chicken leg and started to gnaw at it, wiping his lips delicately with a white napkin. A banana followed, then another glass of wine and finally, the brunet's body gave up its unequal struggle with gravity and he slumped to the floor as he struggled to suck in air. He convulsed, the fever he'd had for the past weeks now weakening him further until he could do nothing but shake on the ground._

_Immediately the soldiers were upon him, hitting him with their rifle butts and kicking at his prominent ribs and backbone. He refused now to scream. Screaming seemed to drive them on and silence was the only means of defiance left to the young soldier. Grimly he concentrated on getting through each successive blow until the soldiers tired and picked him up, throwing him bodily into the cage again. He slumped against the bars and allowed himself finally to succumb to unconsciousness, the various wounds on his chest, back and limbs seeping blood. His last conscious thought was that if he didn't get out of this hell hole soon, then he would surely die._

oOoOoOoOo

'Ryan this has to stop. It can't go on any more' Tania's voice sounded sure and confident in the small room. She nodded to herself. She'd made her decision and she was going to stick by it. If only Ryan would return from the clinic and hear her out. The balding doctor however, was probably enjoying himself socialising with his rich patients upstairs. Tania knew he kept the richer patients in he hospital far longer than they needed to be. It was a way for Ryan to talk, play poker or backgammon and dine with them, the attitude being that he never knew when he may be able to use one of his new "friends" influence.

The woman flicked on the monitor again and looked at the man on the bed. Starsky had gone very quiet and still and from the angle of the camera it was difficult to see if he was breathing. Panic gripped at Tania like an ice cold fist. She ran from her room and down the hallway, flinging the door to Starsky's room open. Warily she crossed to the bed.

The brunet was still, his face pale and his body drenched in sweat. His wrists, where he'd pulled at his restraints during his nightmares were crusted with dried blood. He looked more like a child than the man she'd bedded only a short time ago.

Tania busied herself in the room. She gathered together cotton wool, gauze and a bowl of warm water. There were no guards in the room. Since Starsky had become so sick, Ryan had deemed that their presence wasn't necessary. Tania fumbled the small handcuff key from her pocket and carefully unlocked the cuffs, putting them to one side as she started to clean the wounds around the brunet's wrists.

The woman revelled in the touch. Starsky had always been a considerate lover, seeming to know instinctively whether she wanted him to be rough or gentle. As she cleaned the wounds Tania became lost in her memories...

So lost that she didn't notice that one fever clouded indigo eye open and stare at her.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

Starsky lay on the bunk, feverish and aching. He no longer knew for certain where he was, although he believed he was still in Vietnam and that this hospital room was some new elaborate form of torture devised by the sadistic General Mai. He was still shackled to the bed and he knew they would never let him up. Starsky was also certain that if he didn't get out of the place soon, he would surely die.

It took all the brunet's iron will to remain still when he felt the door open and heard movement in the room. Maybe if he remained placid with his eyes closed they would leave him alone. Starsky was unsure how long it had been since the last round of ill treatment, but he needed more time to rest and gather his strength.

With his eyes closed the brunet felt a presence at the side of his bed and braced himself for the next pain. It surprised him when he felt a hand working at the cuffs around his wrists and suddenly his hands were free. It was another exercise in control to stop from hissing in pain as his arms were brought down to his sides. How long he'd been secured with them above his head was anyone's guess, but it must have been a long time for the pain in his shoulders redoubled at the change in position.

This was it! This was the chance he'd been waiting for and Starsky gathered himself for his escape bid.

The hands were doing something different now. He felt cool water on his wrist and a deft pair of hands cleaning the dried blood away. Without waiting further to find out what might come next, Starsky risked lifting one eyelid to look at the person doing him this small kindness. His vision was blurry from the fever but he saw a woman with long dark hair bending over him. She didn't wear the uniform of the Vietnamese army, neither did she wear the local peasant dress, but this was a trick to make him think he was back home. He'd endured enough at the hands of the General and no way was Starsky going to fall for a trick like that!

General Mai! It had to be one of his soldiers come to play good soldier bad soldier with him. Starsky had heard before of the tactic and hardened himself. This was his chance and as the body turned to soak the gauze in more water Starsky took his chance and gathered himself.

Despite having been secured to the bed for 36 hours, Starsky catapulted himself off the mattress and launched himself at his antagonist. Tania gave a small yelp of surprise and backed up. Never before had she seen such emotion in Starsky's eyes. The deep indigo pools burned with anger, humiliation and the overriding need to free himself. The man standing swaying by the bed was a far different person from the one who had made love to her only a few weeks before.

'Dave?' she said quietly, backing herself up towards the door.

Starsky shook his head like a wounded animal, and like a wounded animal he was at his most dangerous when he felt cornered.

'David Michael Starsky. Corporal. 231-51-3155. United States Army' the litany fell easily from his lips. He'd clung to that identity throughout his ordeal and now he muttered the words as though they were his lifeline.

Tania looked confused. 'Dave, it's me, Tania. I want to help you.'

'Back off. Get away from the door.' Starsky took a step towards the woman and she took another step back, her heart hammering in her chest. In Starsky's eyes here was no recognition and the doctor realised that he was living out one of his nightmares. When she'd read the reports on Choryzine she'd seen that it could make the victim regress, but she'd had no idea that it could work so completely. Tania tried again.

'Dave, it's me Tania. Look at me. Dave... Dave!'

With a yell of rage Starsky launched himself at the Vietnamese woman in front of him. He knew her. She was one of General Mai's whores. He almost remembered her standing in front of his cage laughing as he crouched in the mud trying to escape the fierce sun and the biting cold of the night. She'd done nothing to help him. General Mai wanted him dead. He needed to get out of this place and this was his chance.

Tania never even saw it coming. One moment Starsky was standing swaying in front of her, the next he'd launched himself through the air and his hands were around her neck squeezing the breath from her body.

She fought him as hard as she could, but she was no match for the desperate man. Starsky needed out and nothing would stop him. With a yell, he stared into her eyes as his hands tightened around her neck. She clawed at him, instinctively aiming for his eyes but the brunet whipped his head out of the way and back handed the woman across the face. Tania saw stars and staggered backwards, falling against the door. She slid down the wall and instantly he was upon her. Starsky straddled Tania's body as once again his hands found her neck and started to throttle her. She held onto his wrists, but the fever leant strength to the brunet and he was lost in his nightmare world. He snarled down at her as her vision started to leave her.

'Dave...I tried to help' she managed to croak before blackness overcame her and her body went limp beneath Starsky's hands.

Like a good soldier, Starsky eased up on the pressure as soon as he realised there was no further fight from his victim. No use wasting precious energy when the enemy could no longer fight back.

Panting with exertion, the brunet staggered to his feet, took one last look around the white hospital room and pulled open the door cautiously. The hallway looked clear and Starsky stepped outside, feeling the cool air on his naked chest and back. Next order of business would be getting a top and some shoes although with bare feet, he made no sound as he inched up the narrow corridor, hugging the wall as he went. The Vietcong were all around him, he could sense that. They'd fucked with him long enough and he knew if he met more resistance on his way out he would have to fight. His body ached and his vision was blurry, but now that the brunet was once more on his feet he felt less like a victim and more like the soldier he knew he was. Cautiously he peered around the next corner.

In the lab upstairs Hutch's forehead was resting on his arms. The blond had been so long without sleep that his mind had finally forced a shutdown and now the cop slept, oblivious of the drama unfolding in the room below. It wasn't until he semi-heard the click of the door closing that Hutch shook himself awake. With a sigh he scrubbed his hands through his soft flaxen bangs and massaged the knot of muscles at the base of his neck.

'Sleeping on the job won't help' Ryan said as he walked into the room and came to stand by the desk.

'Gimme a break huh?'

'You can have as long a break as you like when you've come up with the antidote.'

Hutch stared down at the figures on the page. He'd annotated the notes in the margin and had put a big circle and a cross against one particular equation. 'It's this. I don't understand this. This sequence wasn't in the original calculations.'

Ryan looked over Hutch's shoulder and snickered. 'Didn't I tell you, I made a couple of um...enhancements.'

'Enhancements as in what exactly?'

'Don't you recognise it?' Ryan asked, challenging Hutch with his eyes.

Tiredly Hutch shook his head. 'It's ten years since I did this crap for a living. Gimme a break huh?'

'Look carefully. You'll get it.'

Hutch stared at the sequence on the page. C6H3(OH)2-CH2-CH2-NH2. It looked familiar, as though Hutch should know what it was and yet... The blond pinched the bridge of his nose, fighting to remember what he'd vowed to forget all those years ago.

'C6...H3... It looks...Shit, work brain!' Hutch mumbled as he chewed the end of his pencil. 'C6...' Suddenly he looked up, his forehead wrinkled in disbelief. 'You didn't add...? Tell me this isn't what I think it is.'

Ryan smiled slowly. 'What do you think it is?'

'This is Dopamine. You added Dopamine to the Choryzine? Shit Ryan, wasn't the original stuff bad enough?'

'I'm glad you still remember your basic chemistry. When I started to play around with the original drug it just didn't seem to do it for my clients. They wanted something that would turn sickness into aggression. That way, when an enemy was infected, they'd start to fight each other from the inside too. Far more effective, don't you think?'

Hutch lowered his head and shook it from side to side as though he was trying to rid himself of that one thought. 'And the drug you gave to Starsky?'

'We had to try to the new version on someone.'

'So let me get this straight. Not only is my partner suffering the symptoms of a real aggressive form of the flu, but his Dopamine levels have been pushed to their limits so that he's gonna feel anxious, jittery. His nightmares are gonna become reality and his fight reflex will increase. Don't you understand what you've done to him?'

'I've given my test subject a drug which I'm monitoring' Ryan said with dignity.

'You've regressed him back so that he's living in a nightmare world. He's back in Vietnam. I heard him moaning over the intercom and with the Dopamine at these levels, he's a super-soldier. He won't feel pain, won't feel tired. His heart won't stand this treatment for long before he suffers major problems. Stop this now Ryan. For gods sake stop it now.'

Ryan walked over to he observation window to look down at his subject in the room below. Hutch followed the balding man with his eyes and was surprised when Ryan thumped the glass with his fist and went for the door.

'What?'

Ryan glared at Hutch. 'You're telling me you didn't see what went on? You're tellin' me that the carnage down there escaped your notice?'

Hutch got off the chair and went to the window. He saw at first the empty bed and thought that maybe the aids had taken Starsky to the bathroom. It wasn't until he looked further and saw the open door and Tania's body next to it that he realised what had happened.

'I was asleep. I... oh shit. Starsky!' The blond made for the door behind Ryan to be met with a gun staring him in the face.

'I'll take it from here.'

'Ryan, the rules have changed. Let me help. I know Starsky. If anyone can talk him down it's me.'

Ryan snickered. 'Talk him down? Talk? I'm not gonna reason with him, I'm gonna kill the fucker.'

Hutch lunged for the door but not quick enough and Ryan closed it in his face, locking it behind him. Hutch pounded on the solid wood, yelling for Ryan to come back but to no avail and silently the blond rested his forehead against the door and caught his breath. Gathering himself, Hutch crossed the room and flipped the intercom switch back on. He heard and saw Ryan enter the hospital room. He saw him check Tania's inert body and then roll he woman into the recovery position before standing and backing out slowly, his gun raised.

Ryan disappeared from Hutch's view and backed out into the hallway. His senses were on high alert but he was a doctor and not a cop or a soldier. Even in jail he'd had minions and heavies to protect him and now, with his gun in his hand he felt uncertain and not a little scared. Cautiously he inched down the hallway towards the elevator at the end, the gun held poised in his hands.

In front of his and just around the corner, Starsky felt rather than heard a movement. For a second the cop/soldier froze and then he backtracked, standing just beside the corner. As Ryan rounded the bend in the hallway, Starsky gathered himself and dove for the gun in Ryan's hand. The balding man let out a grunt of surprise but hung on to the weapon with a strength born of desperation. Starsky grappled for the gun and the two men met eye to eye over the dark, cold metal.

'Hey Starsky. We can sort this out' Ryan tried, using his best doctors calming voice.

The sentiment was lost on the crazed brunet. This was just another one of General Mai's men come to take him back for more torture and he knew he'd never survive another round. Starsky snarled into the face in front of him and pushed Ryan back against the wall. Ryan hit his head against the plaster and saw stars but kept his hold on he gun as Starsk started to squeeze his wrist, feeling for the pressure point that would release Ryan's grip.

Ryan yelped in pain and tried to scratch at Starsky's eyes with his free hand. The brunet whipped back his head but not before Ryan's nails had cut a bloody groove down Starsky's cheek, narrowly missing his left eye.

Now the gun was almost in Starsky's hand. Ryan was in no doubt that the crazed man would use it and he fought to bring his arm down so that he could use his body as extra leverage. The two men grappled, both strong and both intent on damaging the other but whereas Ryan fought out of fear, Starsky had had a lifetime of combat under his belt. Slowly but surely Starsky started to turn the gun in Ryan's hand, the balding man quivering under the strain. For Ryan it was now or never and instinctively he felt his index finger jerk against the trigger.

Up in the lab Hutch could hear the sounds of a struggle over the intercom but could see neither Ryan nor Starsky. It was like watching a horror movie in slow motion and knowing the horror was about to become real. There was silence for a second and then the sharp retort of a gun discharging from outside the hospital room. Up in the lab, Hutch galvanised into action, pounding against the locked door and throwing his weight against it in the hope of breaking out.

In the hallway below, as the smell of cordite hung heavy in the air, one man fell unconscious to the ground whilst the other leaned back against the wall gathering his breath.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

Hutch hammered on the door to the lab, desperate to know if anyone had been shot and if so, who was injured... or worse. Ryan was no fighter, but he had had the gun whereas Starsky had been brought up on the mean side of town, he was an ex soldier and he was a tough and streetwise cop. If anyone could handle himself in combat it was the brunet. But he was sick and... The thoughts went around and around in Hutch's head as he pounded on the locked door. In desperation the blond cop grabbed a palette knife out of one of the well equipped drawers and started to work at the screws holding he hinges of the door but the knife slipped and was too big to fit the groove of the screw.

Hutch cursed and threw down the implement looking around for something heavy. He saw nothing of any use and in desperation grabbed the lab stool and brought it down full force on the door handle. It gave an inch and elated, Hutch continued to pound at the handle until, with a metallic clang, the door knob fell to the ground. Hutch put down the stool, took a step back and kicked out at the door with his leg. The wood splintered around the broken lock and the door swung open with the momentum of the blow. Without pausing, Hutch ran down the hallway and took the stairs three at a time, powering out into the lower corridor and skidding to a halt by the side of the body on the ground. There was an aide looking shocked and pale by its side and Hutch roughly pushed him away.

The blond cop sank to his knees by the side of the wounded man. There was blood on the deep blue carpet and a smear of the scarlet down the wall where Ryan had fallen. The balding man now lay with his eyes closed breathing shallowly as the hole in the stomach continued to seep blood.

Hutch looked up at the aide. Get a sheet...towel...anything and bring it back here. MOVE' he snapped at the shocked man. The aide left and returned a moment later with a pile of clean sheets. Hutch took one and wadded it into a ball pushing it against the stomach wound. Ryan groaned but remained unconscious.

'Where's the doctors?' Hutch hissed.

'He's there' the aide said quietly. 'Dr Shaw runs the clinic on his own.'

'Shit. Ok, stay here and hold that against his belly. I'm gonna make a phone call.' Hutch got up and ran for the office that Tania had used. He grabbed the phone and punched in the numbers he knew by heart listening as the phone at the other end rang.

On the third tone, the line crackled and a familiar voice gruffed 'Dobey.'

'Cap'n its Hutch.'

'Hutch? What the...? Where are you? Where's Starsky? Are you ok?'

'All good questions but I need some black and whites, a doctor and an ambulance to...' Hutch gave the address of the clinic and heard Dobey's pencil scratching down the details. Not for the first time, the blond cop thanked his lucky stars that he had a boss who knew when to ask questions and when to shut up and listen. At the end, when Dobey had used the other line to snap out his orders to Minnie on the switchboard the Captain came back to his man.

'Done. Now tell me what the hell is going on.'

'It's a long story Cap'n' Hutch began.

'Something to do with a young medical student and a murder trial?'

Hutch snickered to himself. Dobey had heard his clues and had done his homework. 'Yeah, that about sums it up. Cap'n I have to go, but Starsky's gone. He may be in the grounds or he may still be in the clinic. Somehow I don't think that's likely. He's sick and he needs help, but he's also dangerous. I need an APB out on him and I also need some specialist help.'

'Tell me.' Dobey's voice was calm.

'Judith Kauffman. The doc who helped with the flu epidemic? She's gonna know how to find an antidote from all his mess.'

'She's at the CDC right? I'm on it.'

Hutch closed his eyes, remembering his partner's nightmares and how the new "improved" Choryzine worked on the emotion centres of his brain. Although Hutch and Starsky had worked together for years and had been best friends for all that time, the drug in the brunet's system had regressed Starsky to where he believed he was back in Vietnam. Having studied the make-up of the drug for three days now, Hutch was certain that for Starsky, his nightmares were reality and the curly haired cop would shoot first and ask questions later. Only one man – literally the man of Starsky's dreams- would be safe.

'There's someone else we need. Someone Starsk will trust implicitly. Can you phone the Army base and see if Tom Trafford is available?'

'His army buddy?'

'Uh huh. This drug that Ryan developed... he tested it on Starsky. Right now my partner thinks he's back to bein' Corporal Starsky back in 'Nam. He's taken a gun, so far as I can tell and...' Hutch's voce failed him. He cleared his throat. '... he's dangerous Cap'n.'

The blond man heard a sigh down the telephone. 'I'll do what I can. Be careful Hutchinson. Don't take any chances huh? I'm on my way up there right now.'

Hutch closed his eyes. 'See ya' he said into the phone and replaced it onto the cradle. 'Shit Starsk, what've I got ya into?'

oOoOoOoOo

The tall man in Army fatigues sprawled on the hard plastic chair in the lab looking down through the observation window at the hospital room Starsky had been kept in. He snickered as he heard how his former Army buddy had escaped. 'That's my Curly. If ever there was a born survivor it's him.'

Hutch nodded. It had taken ten hours to get both Judith Kauffman and Major Tom Trafford to the clinic and another hour to brief both of them on what had happened. During the interminable wait whilst they had both made their way up into the hills behind Bay City an APB had been put out on Sergeant Dave Starsky and Hutch had made a thorough search of the clinic and its environs. He had come up empty handed and knew Starsky had, quite literally, run for the hills.

Now, while Hutch spoke with Traff, Judith was already hard at work looking over the paperwork associated with the Choryzine. She had commented on the formula and how effective it would likely be and had given Traff a run down on the effects of the drug on both body and mind. The grim truth was that Starsky was armed, dangerous and infectious and the sooner he was caught and given the antidote, the better it would be for all concerned.

'So you want me to go out there and bring him back?' Traff asked, getting to his feet.

'His nightmares were all about 'Nam. He was convinced he was back there and if what Judith says is right, the only one he's going to trust is you. You were his Army buddy' Hutch said quietly. In a way, the blond cop felt cheated. Starsky was his partner and his responsibility. It did not sit easy with the man to hand over that responsibility to someone else – even someone he had grown to like and respect, like Traff.

The soldier nodded quietly. At a whisker short of six foot and with a shock of chocolate coloured curly hair, he could have been taken for Starsky's brother...or twin even. Only the eyes set them apart. Starsky's eyes were the colour of the ocean on a stormy day. They were inky, indigo blue whereas Traff's eyes were the colour of best quality emeralds. They twinkled mischievously from a face that seemed achingly familiar to Hutch. The cop turned away for a moment, gathering his thoughts.

'I don't think it's gonna be easy Traff. He's sick and he's alone. He's dangerous.'

The soldiers face, for once, turned serious. 'I'll be careful. I don't like the idea of fighin' him any more'n you do.'

'I have an idea' Judith chipped in. 'One that may mean you can shoot first and ask questions later.'

'I'm not gonna shoot Curly!' Traff sounded shocked at the thought.

'Not with a bullet, no. But when Captain Dobey phoned me and gave me the run down on what was happening, I thought we might run into his problem so I came prepared.' The woman brought out a hard, black case which looked suspiciously like one used for carrying a pistol and indeed, as she opened it, it revealed a large, black handgun.'

Traff looked at the weapon and touched the belt around his waist. 'It's fine lady. I have one of my own, but I aint gonna use it on my best friend.'

Judith shook her head. 'No, I don't expect you to. Like I said, with this you can shoot first and ask questions later.' She lifted the weapon from the case and also took out a vial of liquid and a dart with a small scarlet feather attached. 'This is a tranquiliser dart and this gun fires it. You'll need to aim at legs or... his butt, but once the dart drives home, Starsky will be off his feet and asleep within 2 minutes. He should remain unconscious for four or five hours – enough time to bring him back here and for me to administer the antidote.'

'Do you have it yet?' Hutch asked uncertainly.

The woman smiled. 'It's a cute drug, this Choryzine. Clever, but nothing I haven't seen before. It's a lot like... Well, suffice it to say I'll need maybe an hour or so for final calculations and then another couple of hours to manufacture the antidote.'

'Just like that? It took me 3 days just to get my head around the equations again.'

Judith stroked her hand down the blond's cheek, smiling up at him. 'And that, my dear Hutch, is why you're a cop and I work for the CDC. Now go and find Starsky and let me work huh? Remember, the dart needs to go into a fleshy part – leg or buttock.'

Traff snickered. 'I get to shoot Curly in the butt! I knew this job had to have some perk.'

oOoOoOoOo

'All units, all units. Missing officer Sergeant Starsky. This is an APB for Sergeant Starsky. Approach with caution. Sergeant Starsky is armed and dangerous. Repeat, approach with caution.'

Sergeant Golec sat in his car outside the donut shop. He'd already avoided a call to a drive by shooting and was now whiling away his time until he could clock off his shift. The APB however, peaked his interest. He hated Starsky with a passion, ever since that tie in the alleyway. The guys back in the squad room despised Golec now. Maybe this was a chance to seek revenge on the curly haired cop.

Golec put down his donut and wiped the sugar off the front of his shirt. He switched on the engine of his car, took out his gun and placed it, cocked and ready, on the seat by his side and pulled out into the afternoon traffic.

Revenge could be so sweet!


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

Sergeant Steve Golec drove quickly through the quietening streets towards the road up into the hills. His nose still gave him pain when he blew it and since Starsky's injury whilst he was partnered with Golec, the older man's popularity within the squad room had reached an all time low. He knew that Dave Starsky was a loose cannon. He also knew that the curly haired cop had been the one to cause his plummet in popularity. This APB was the best chance he had to get his own back on Starsky and the fact that Minnie Caplan's voice had said that he brunet was armed and dangerous just made things all the better – Golec could capture Starsky, use as much force as he felt necessary to vindicate himself and still get back into Dobey's good books. Not bad for a "twofer".

The road up into the hills behind the city wove through vineyards and pretty wooded areas. The higher up the mountain he drove however, the denser the trees and vegetation got until the branches of the cypresses joined above the road making a green, verdant tunnel through which his car drove. As Golec got to the turn off to the clinic he slowed the car and pulled over to the side of the road. He got out and took a pair of binoculars, focussing on the hills above him. There were patches of trees, more open areas of scrubland and grass but no towns and no people – an ideal place for a man to lose himself. An ideal place for Golec to take Starsky and exact his revenge at the same time.

With a wolfish grin, Golec got back into his car and started to drive again, his eyes resting on a small building higher up the mountainside above the trees. It seemed to be some sort of shack or cabin and was only visible from this part of the road, it being sheltered by a stony outcrop.

On another part of the mountain, Tom Trafford paused to catch his breath and look around him. The sun was starting to go down now, the late afternoon casting long shadows across the ground. The soldier had been on the go for over three hours and had covered a lot of ground, his eyes picking out tracks here, a broken twig there. Traff's speciality was not tracking, but Starsky was not his usual careful self and Traff knew enough of his friend's habits to have a fair idea that Starsky would want to find a place to shelter and make his plans.

Traff wiped a hand over his forehead and took a chug of water from his canteen. Up ahead, the hillside took a hike upwards, a rocky outcrop standing in his way. The soldier had two choices – either walk another hour to side step the rock, or expend more energy and set to climbing the cliff. With a sigh and a look at his wristwatch Traff blew on the ends of his fingers, picked his first few hand and footholds and started to climb. As the soldier climbed his mind went back to the first time he and Starsky met.

_They were out on a run..._

'_Don't tell me. You were picked out at boot camp an' sent here'._

_'Uh huh. They said I could shoot well enough and they needed snipers. An' did I want some excitement? You too?'_

_'Yup. I managed to get five outa six slugs into the bull an' next thing I know I was in the Major's office 'n' they're doin' this hard sell thing about how my country needed me'._

_'How long have you been here?' Starsky asked, stumbling slightly in the dark and rain._

_'A month. One month of pure joy! The guys are ok. Ya have to watch a couple of 'em. They think they're Captain Marvel or sumthin. But the rest are sound enough'._

_'O'Malley seems a bundle of laughs'._

_Traff grinned. 'He's a pussycat when ya get t'know him. He does care. He just makes us tough it out coz that's what it's gonna be like over there'._

_'Over where?'_

_Traff stopped running, bending over to get his breath. He looked at the other boy with pity in his eyes. 'Didn't they tell ya?'_

_'Tell me what?'_

_'What this place is an' where you'll end up'_

_Starsky stopped, also bending over to catch his breath. In the distance he could see the lights of the nissen huts and he stole a quick look at his watch. 11:45. 'No, they omitted that little snippet' he grunted. 'Care to enlighten me?'_

_Traff heaved a big sigh. He put a friendly hand on his new friend's shoulder. 'We're being trained as snipers'._

_'I know'._

_'Well where in this country would we need a sniper?'_

_'Dunno. I never thought. I just enjoy firing guns. Shit! Why do I get the impression I'm not gonna like what I hear?'_

_'Coz that's about the size of it Chief. The reason they need a whole bunch of snipers is coz we're being shipped off to 'Nam in four months time'._

_Starsky stood upright, trying to assimilate the information. 'Nam? As in Vietnam. Jungles; rain; all those film reels we keep seein'?'_

_'Uh huh. We have the dubious honour of seeing the world – through the crosshairs of a rifle'._

_'Shit! No wonder the other guys at boot camp didn't seem real sorry that they weren't chosen'._

_'Well there are some good points'. Traff said as they started to jog the final leg back to the base._

_'T'riffic? Somehow I'm not sure I believe ya'._

_'Oh there are. We're classed as SPCs – Specialists. So although it ain't exactly a promotion we do get a bit more in our pay packet. An' although you won't believe it now, we don't have such tight regulations as the rest of the grunts. We even get to go off base to the bars at weekends'._

_Starsky looked skeptical. 'Don't exactly sell me on the thoughts of getting' shot to death in 'Nam' he grumbled._

_'No? Well wait till ya tell the girls you're doin' undercover missions for Uncle Sam. Drives 'em wild! Believe me Chief. What those girls at Mo's Bar can do with an ice cube ain't worth mentionin'. Traff grinned as Starsky's face lit up._

_'Now that' he said happily 'is definitely something to get shot at for._

And a few months later...

_Traff escorted Starsky through the crowded bar towards two girls standing a little apart from the rest. They were petite, black haired Vietnamese girls who had wide deep brown eyes and not too much make up. They both wore simple silk print shift dresses and giggled seductively behind their hands as the two soldiers approached them. Traff winked at the brunet._

_'I got us a pair of twins. How's that?'_

_'How will we know who's is who's? Starsky asked trying hard to sound worldly wise and failing miserably. _

_'I don't think that's gonna be a problem. Turns out Ai and Di.u haven't been in the game very long and they share a room. They don't speak a lot of English but from what I can glean, they don't mind sharing the bed if we don't'. He grinned._

_'Ya mean we both…..with them…..on the same…oh!' Starsky ended lamely._

_'Well if ya don't want, I could have 'em both to myself' Traff countered, knowing his friend wasn't likely to pass up the opportunity for a hot night._

_'No, no…its fine…its just erm….oh hell, nuthin. Whatever….just go for it' Starsky agreed and followed the two still giggling girls as they wound their way through the crowd to the door._

Traff reached the top of the bluff twenty minutes after he'd started climbing. He slithered over the top of the rock and lay on his back panting and staring up at the darkening sky.

At the same time Golec crested the rise on the road and caught a glimpse of the cabin in the distance. The light was fading fast but as he looked he could swear that he saw a movement at the door of the wooden cabin and carefully he pulled his car to a halt, switched off the engine and unholstered his gun, checking the safety. He pushed the gun down the back of his belt and got out of the car, hugging the tree line as he made his way towards the building.

Inside, Dave Starsky was lost in his own world. He was back in Vietnam and he had escaped from General Mai, but for how long could he remain hidden. He needed to get back to his battalion but he also needed to hole up and rest for a while. His head hurt, the light lanced at his eyes and the wound he seemed to have received on his upper leg throbbed in time with his heart beat. His throat was swollen and sore and he shivered with fever. Starsky crouched inside the cabin in the dark and cradled the gun he'd taken from the Vietnam soldier to his chest, trying hard to keep his teeth from chattering. Outside, the early evening cool brought out a whole new batch of critters and with them a whole new set of noises. The chitter of the bats set Starsky's nerves on edge and far off a louder bark of a stag made him jump. He needed sleep but even though his eyes were heavy he couldn't let his body relax... although...

Golec crept quietly up to the window of the cabin and peered in. The interior was dim but as Golec squinted into the gloom he thought he heard a noise and he turned quickly just in time to see Starsky, wild eyed and with a gun levelled at his chest. Golec put up his hands slowly all thoughts of retribution fleeing in the face of the weapon.

'Hey buddy' he said quietly.

'Hands where I can see 'em' Starsky rasped, leaning heavily against the door jamb.

'Sure. Sure thing' Golec muttered. 'Can I at least come in?'

Starsky seemed to consider for a moment and flicked the gun at the older man. 'Nice and slow.'

Golec took a step forwards, his eyes never leaving Starsky's face. There was a fine sheen of sweat on the familiar features and a shake to the gun hand. As Golec got level with the brunet, he saw his chance and stumbled, catching himself on the wooden door, at the same time kicking out at Starsky's leg as he went down. The brunet let out a yelp of pain and fell to his knees and gave Goec the opportunity he needed.

The older cop pounced on Starsky, grappling with the brunet and rolling him over on the dusty ground. Starsky fought back like a cougar although he was weaker than usual. He grabbed for Golec's gun hand, his own weapon forgotten and took a hold of Golec's wrist hitting the hand again and again on the hard packed stony ground. Golec snarled and rolled himself over until he was straddling Starsky's body pinning him down.

'Little shit' he snapped as Starsky bent himself in two and nutted Golec on the forehead. The older cop was momentarily stunned and it gave the injured brunet the second he needed to wriggle out from under Golec, kick out at the cop's head and make for the door. Golec shook his head, raised his gun and shot once before blackness consumed him and he fell unconscious to the floor.

Starsky felt like someone had stuck a red hot blade across his side and looked down to see a smear of blood across his ribs. He cursed and ran for the shelter of the trees just as Traff made his way into the clearing having heard the shot.

The soldier cautiously pushed open the door to the cabin and stood just inside, his eyes acclimatising to the dim light. A moment later he spied the body of Steve Golec on the floor. Carefully Traff crossed to him and made a quick search of his body, finding the cop's shield in his top pocket. Golec groaned and opened his eyes.

'Who the...?'

'Trafford. Tom Trafford. Have you seen another guy? Looks like me and...'

'Starsky...' Golec croaked. 'He knocked me out.'

'Did he get off a shot?'

Golec looked up at the man in the soldier's uniform. Traff could have been taken for Starsky's twin and the cop gulped. How could he explain having just shot a fellow officer?'

'He's gone crazy. He tried to kill me. He...'

'Where'd he go?' Traff asked, looking around.

'Why'd you want to know?' Golec asked suspiciously.

'Coz you're right, he's sick and right now you've been infected. I want you to get your ass down to the clinic down the mountain and ask for Dr Judith Kauffman. Hutch is with him. She'll give you an antidote, but you're gonna have to go now.'

Golec got to his feet and stood swaying for a moment. 'What about you? Who are you?'

'His friend. Did you see where he went?'

Golec pointed to the trees. 'It wasn't my fault. He went for me. He would have killed me. I didn't have a choice...'

'You shot him?' Traff asked sharply.

'Like I said, he...'

The soldier cut him off. 'Just go. I'll find him and let's hope when he recovers...if he recovers he doesn't remember too much huh?


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

Hutch watched the blond woman work quietly, certainly and with practiced hands. Judith had done in five hours what it had taken Hutch three days to do. She had looked over his initial work, had made notes in a small, neat hand and had then gone on to make some swift calculations, periodically looking at a sample biopsy that Ryan had furnished her with.

Ryan himself had been conscious enough that when the medics had gotten to him, he had insisted that he stay at his own clinic to be treated and had given the ambulance crew the number of a surgeon he knew and used on occasion. Right now, the balding doctor was under the knife in his own OR and had been for about 45 minutes.

Hutch felt like a spare part. He had wanted to go searching with Traff, but as the soldier had logically pointed out, if Starsky really did believe he was back in 'Nam, then the only person he would truly trust was the man he'd served with all those years ago – if he recognised Traff at all. Hutch had finally made a deal with Traff and had given him a long range radio tuned to a police band frequency. Hutch held he counterpart radio and Traff had promised that the minute he had Starsky in his sights, he would radio the blond cop his location so that Hutch could drive there and they could both bring Starsky back to the clinic.

Judith Kauffman sighed, flexed the muscles in her neck and pushed the microscope away from her.

'Well?' Hutch asked

'Well you'd never have made a fortune with this. It's got all the markers for a cure for the common cold, plus a few extras that mean that it's also quite deadly. The pairing at this point, and this point...' Judith indicated two areas of the double helix of a representation she'd drawn '...show that instead of a cure, or a weapon, the drug Dr Shaw has created would mutate after maybe the second or third generation so that the T4 gypsy pairings...'

Hutch's eyebrows V'd. 'In English?'

The woman grinned. 'The drug wouldn't work. Humans would build up an immediate immunity to it by being in contact with a host. It's very, very easy to create an antidote to the drug.'

'Easy for you maybe.'

Judith shrugged. 'It's what I do. Just like I wouldn't have a clue how to approach solving a crime.'

'So what you're saying is by the time Traff finds Starsky, you'll have something ready for him?'

Dr Kauffman sighed. 'In a way yes. I'd prefer to do some tests, but Dr Shaw was right about the lifespan of a victim injected with the Choryzine. 6 days is about right, and we're into the fifth day already. The antidote will be rough and ready and Starsky is likely to be sick for a while after its administered, but yes, I'll have something for him.'

Hutch smiled, relief flooding his body. 'Then let's hope Traff has some luck in finding Starsk. And sooner rather than later huh?'

oOoOoOoOo

Up on the mountain, Traff peered out of the cabin door. Starsky couldn't have gone far, especially as there was a smear of blood on the wood at the side of the door where Golec had shot him. Traff stilled himself, letting out his breath until there was only the noise of the wind in the trees around him. The soldier closed his eyes and waited, his senses questing outwards through the woods and up onto the mountain.

In the distance a bird called. Closer to home he could hear the buzz of a bee close by and... yes, off to his left Traff heard the distinct snap of a twig. Drawing the gun and making sure the tranquiliser dart was pushed home, the soldier set off in the direction of the sound, placing his feet quietly and surely. Up ahead, Starsky was not being so careful and Traff followed quickly.

Starsky was lost. He'd thought he'd found a safe place to hole up until nightfall. Most of the Vietcong soldiers returned to their camp at night so he would be safe to travel but that one soldier had ambushed him and almost taken him. Thank god for his quick reflexes! Now, the curly haired man plunged through the trees. His legs felt weak and his breath came in sobs as he drove himself on and yet Starsky couldn't stop. No way on god's green earth could he go back to the prison camp and General Mai. He'd die by his own hand first.

The brunet stopped his headlong rush, leaning heavily against the bole of a tree to catch his breath and to stop himself from falling to his knees. The new gunshot wound across his ribs smarted and bled freely and without a shirt, there was little Starsky could do to stem the blood flow. He lifted his arm and looked at the long, raw wound. Seeing it brought more pain and he hissed, closing his eyes against the nausea that threatened to overwhelm him. Slowly he rested his forehead against the rough bark of the tree and closed his eyes. God he was weary! The fever in his body wanted to overwhelm him but Starsky knew he needed to find a safe place to hole up and hide.

A twig snapped behind him and the injured man froze, his mouth gone bone dry in the gathering twilight. Starsky's senses quested outwards as he peered through the dim light. A movement in front of him and to one side startled him and he brought up the gun and pointed it quickly.

Traff saw Starsky from a distance, the gathering gloom of the early evening hiding all but the paler skin of the brunet's back. Carefully, Traff brought his own tranquiliser gun around and checked the loaded cartridge was in place. Starsky looked ready to drop, but the soldier knew from experience that anyone – man or animal is at their most dangerous when wounded and cornered.

It was a stalemate, both men knew the other was there, but whilst Traff wanted only to help his old friend, Starsky was lost in his own world of pain and wanted only to escape. For an eternity, the two men faced off until Traff took the initiative and broke the silence.

'Curly boy. It's me, Traff' he called across the distance between them.

Starsky heard the familiar name and his heart leapt, but he remained cautious. The Vietcong were a tricky lot and they used mind tricks as well as physical forms of pain. He remained quiet, the gun still pointed at the other man, but his arm was beginning to shake and he knew he'd either have to fire or put up the weapon soon.

'It's a trick' Starsky's voice carried across the yards between the two.

'No trick Curly. It's me. Traff. You're sick buddy and I've come to...'

Suddenly the gun was back pointing at him.

'I aint goin' back. You'd have to kill me first.'

Traff kept his voice low and even. 'I don't wanna hurt ya Chief. I just wanna make sure you're ok.'

Starsky's voice held a note of panic. 'Keep back. Back off man' he growled.

Traff tried again, his own heart beating faster now that he knew just how badly Starsky had been affected by the Choryzine. 'I'm gonna walk out into the clearin' buddy, ok? Just walkin'. I'm comin' out right now.' Traff stowed the gun down the front of his pants and held his arms up and away from his body as he took one step out from the cover of the trees.

Starsky saw the figure emerge and his finger itched to pull the trigger of the gun. It looked like Traff and the voice sounded like his buddy, but his mind was in such turmoil that Starsky couldn't make any sense of the world around him any more. His gun hand shook and he wiped the back of his free hand over his eyes and concentrated on the man walking out into the clearing in front of him.

Traff kept his eyes on Starsky. He could see how pale his friend was and he could detect the shivers running down Starsky's spine. He continued to walk slowly but purposefully out into the clearing, his arms out. 'Starsky? It's me, Traff.'

'It's a trick' Starsky said in desperation. 'It's a trick. I ain't gonna go quiet.'

'I just need to check you out Chief. You're sick and you need help.'

'I need outa here and you're not gonna stop me.'

'I won't stop ya, no, but I can help. I... ' Traff stopped as Starsky's body collapsed against the side of the tree until only the trunk was holding him up. The soldier saw his chance and took two quick steps towards his friend. Lightening fast, Starsky pointed the gun and loosed off a shot as Traff threw himself to the ground. The bullet went wide, but was so close to the mark that the soldier heard the fizz of the slug whizzing through the air and felt the air move beside him. Traff cursed and pulled his own gun loosing off the dart just as Starsky turned to run.

The scarlet feather of the dart showed clearly as it reached it's target and sank into the muscle of Starsky's butt. The sting of the projectile propelled the cop forwards and Starsky half ran, half staggered through the woods with Traff in hot pursuit.

He'd been shot! The slimy Vietnamese bastard had shot him! Starsky ran for the cover of the trees but his body seemed to be slowing down. His legs felt like lead and his breath whistled in his throat as he fought to take a lungful of air. Starsky lurched against a tree, pushed himself away from it and fell to his knees, his body telling him that enough was enough and that it wanted to close down. In desperation, Starsky turned to see the Vietnamese soldier closing on him. He pulled up his gun one more time and squeezed the trigger. His last view before unconsciousness took him was the other man spinning away and falling to the ground. With a sickening sound of blood in his ears, Starsky fell forwards, curling into a protective ball as darkness consumed him. His last thought was that he'd rather die than go back to the prison camp.

oOoOoOoOo

**One day later**

There was a bright light above him and a soft pillow underneath his head and Starsky was unwilling to open his eyes in case it was all a dream and he was really back with General Mai. He hugged the darkness to him, using it like a comfort blanket to shield him from the realty outside his closed eyelids and mentally explored his body.

Other than a dull headache, the worst pain was in his thigh and across his left ribs. Starsky remembered the cabin and the man he'd grappled with and wondered if this was actual reality or whether he was still feverish and he was back in his cage in 'Nam.

Cautiously he opened one eye and looked up into a blue neon light above him. There was a small noise off to one side and then a face looked down at him and smiled.

'How are you feeling Dave?'

Dave? General Mai never called him Dave. Come to think about it, not many people did, other than his girlfriends. He was Davey to his Mom and everyone else called him Starsky. Curious.

A cool hand touched his forehead and soothed down the side of his face and Starsky opened his other eye so that he could look up at Dr Judith Kauffman. For a moment, the brunet was stunned. Had he caught the plague from Hutch? Had all this been a bad dream?

'Doc?' he rasped.

'Lie back and rest. You're going to be fine, but you need rest.'

'Don't understand. Where...?'

'You're in a clinic. You've been sick and you need your rest' Judith said carefully.

There were so many questions Starsky wanted to ask. So many things in his mind that he needed to clear up and yet he felt weak as a kitten and more tired than he remembered feeling in all his life. Despite his best effort, Starsky's eyes closed all on their own and he drifted back to sleep as Judith shook Hutch awake and told him the good news.

oOoOoOoOo

**Five hours later**

There seemed to be a crowd around his bed, or rather that's what it felt like to the brunet as once more he started to surface from his dream world. This time he felt warm and languorous and the nightmares of the past week were long gone. Starsky's body felt relaxed but tired as though he'd just undergone the heaviest workout in history, but the headache had gone and only the sharp pull of stitched in his leg and chest reminded him that some of what he'd gone through had been real.

Slowly Starsky opened his eyes. 'Hey, tryin' to sleep here' he grunted, his voice husky but stronger.

'Hey buddy. How're ya feelin'?' This from Hutch who was leaning over the bed and smiling down at him.

'Feel like I've been shot.'

Traff stood at the other side of the bed, his right arm in a sling. 'Makes two of us' the soldier said without any malice.

Starsky turned his head on the pillow. 'Did I do that?'

'Uh huh,'

The brunet closed his eyes. 'Serves ya right. You shot me in the butt.'

'I guess we're equal then.'

Judith came to stand by the bedside. She tested Starsky's pulse, silenced the brunet with a thermometer under his tongue and check his blood pressure. Finally satisfied that all seemed well she smiled. 'I think you're going to be fine.'

Starsky closed his eyes and nodded. 'If I can get some peace...and maybe a pizza?'

oOoOoOoOo

**Epilogue – 2 months later**

Detectives Starsky and Hutchinson sat side by side in the small, airless courtroom as Judge Chuck Stevenson stared down at Dr Ryan Shaw and Dr Tania Blake. Ryan had recovered from his surgery and had been arrested whilst recovering in his own clinic whilst Tania had been suspended from police duty and had been placed under virtual house arrest. Both stood trial and were convicted of kidnap of a police officer, assaulting a police officer and blackmail. The Judge passed a sentence of 12 years for each.

Starsky missed the actual sentence as he did his usual trick of visiting the bathroom. He had taken his time to return from the shadowlands of his nightmares, and he still had a feeling of the past haunting him but he was back at work albeit taking things a little slower than normal.

Hutch had a feeling of déjà vu as he sat and watched Ryan Shaw sentenced once again.

Judith Kauffman sat at Hutch's side. This time, she wasn't going to walk away from the tall blond cop quite so readily.

From the back of the courtroom Steve Golec listened and sighed grimly. One day. One day he'd nail Starsky once and for all.


End file.
